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4 ? 
"TJ'Lo 


The EYES of 
THE WOODS 


By JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER 


The Guns of Bull Run 
The Guns of Shiloh 
The Scouts of Stonewall 
The Sword of Antietam 


THE CIVIL WAR SERIES 

The Star of Gettysburg 
The Rock of Chickamaugua 
The Shades of the Wilderness 
The Tree of Appomattox 


THE WORLD WAR SERIES 

The Guns of Europe 

The Hosts of the Air The Forest of Swords 

THE YOUNG TRAILERS SERIES 


The Young Trailers 
The Forest Runners 
The Keepers of the Trail 
The Eyes of the Woods 


The Free Rangers 
The Riflemen of the Ohio 
The Scouts of the Valley 
The Border Watch 


THE TEXAN SERIES 

The Texan Star 

The Texan Scouts The Texan Triumph 

THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES 

The Hunters of the Hills The Shadow of the North 

BOOKS NOT IN SERIES 


Apache Gold 
The Quest of the Four 
The Last of the Chiefs 
In Circling Camps 


A Soldier of Manhattan 
The Sun of Saratoga 
A Herald of the West 
The Wilderness Road 


My Captive 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


107 D 






“It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear, and he 

was proud’’ 


[page 125] 



Vhe EYES of 
THE WOODS 


A STORY OF THE 
ANCIENT WILDERNESS 


BY 

JOSEPH A. ALTSHE^ER 

AUTHOR OF 

f'THE TOUNQ TRAILERS,” “THE SHADOW OF THE NORTH,’! 
“THE HUNTERS OF THE HILLS,” “THE TREE 
OF APPOMATTOX,” ETC. 




ILLUSTRATED BY 

D. C. HUTCHISON 

/ 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK AND LONDON: 1917 

’ . (VWj & 




Copt right, 1917, bt 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


r 



MAR 20 1917 

1 * . ** ' 


Printed in the United States of America 


©CI.A455953 


,4 ^ 


FOREWORD 


“The Eyes of the Woods” is an independent story, 
telling of certain remarkable events in the life of Henry 
Ware, Paul Cotter, Shif less Sol Hyde, Silent Tom Ross 
and Long Jim Hart. But it is also a part of the series 
dealing with these characters, and is the fourth in point 
of time, coming just after “The Keepers of the Trail.” 























I 


s 



















%* 









M 















4 


i 





























# 






* 






















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 







FAGE 

I. The Flight 



• 

■r» 



I 

II. The Great Joke 



• 

• 

• 


23 

III. A Merry Night 




• 

• 


45 

IV. The Captured Canoe 



• 




67 

V. The Protecting River 



• 

• 

• 


89 

VI. The Oasis . 



• 

• 

• 


hi 

VII. Into the North 



• 

« 

• 


130 

VIII. The Buffalo Ring . 



• 

• 



149 

IX. The Covert 



• 

• 

• 


168 

X. The Bear Guide 



• 

• 

• 


186 

XI. The Greater Powers 



• 

• 

• 


209 

XII. The Stag’s Coming . 



• 

• 

• 


225 

XIII. The Leaping Wolf . 



• 

• 

• 


245 

XIV. The Watchful Squirrel 

• 

• 

• 

• 


266 

XV. The Letter 







286 
























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear, and 

he was proud” Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

“ ‘A lot of ’em are dancin’ the scalp dance’ ” 78 

“Red Eagle rose to address his hosts” 204 

“A gigantic wolf . . . launched himself straight at the 

warrior’s throat” 254 



THE EYES 
OF THE WOODS 


CHAPTER I 

THE FLIGHT 

A STRONG wind swept over the great forest, send- 
ing green leaves and twigs in showers before it, 
and bringing clouds in battalions from the west. 
The air presently grew cold, and then heavy drops of 
rain came, pattering at first like shot, but soon settling 
into a hard and steady fall that made the day dark and 
chill, tingeing the whole wilderness with gloom and 
desolation. 

The deer sought its covert, a buffalo, grazing in a lit- 
tle prairie, thrust its huge form into a thicket, the squir- 
rel lay snug in its nest in the hollow of a tree, and the 
bird in the shelter of the foliage ceased to sing. The only 
sounds were those of the elements, and the world seemed 
to have returned to the primeval state that had endured 
for ages. It was the kingdom of fur, fin and feather, 
and, so far as the casual eye could have seen, man had 
not yet come. 

But in the deep cleft of the cliff, from which coign 
of vantage they had fought off Shawnee and Miami, 
Henry Ware, Paul Cotter and Long Jim Hart sat snug, 


I 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


warm and dry, and looked out at the bitter storm. Near 
them a small fire burned, the smoke passing out at the 
entrance, and at the far end of the hollow much more 
wood was heaped. There were five beds of dry leaves 
with the blankets lying upon them, useful articles were 
stored in the niches of the stone, and jerked meat lay 
upon the natural shelves. It was a secret, but cheerful 
spot in that vast, wet and cold wilderness. Long Jim 
felt its comfort and security, as he rose, put another 
stick of wood on the fire, and then resumed his seat near 
the others. 

“I’m sorry the storm came up so soon,” said Henry. 
“Of course, Sol and Tom are hardened to all kinds of 
weather, but it’s not pleasant to be caught in the woods 
at such a time.” 

“And our ammunition,” said Paul. “It wouldn’t hurt 
the lead, of course, but it would be a disaster for the 
powder to be soaked through and through. They’d have 
to go back to the settlements, and that would mean a 
long journey and a lot of lost time.” 

“I don’t think we need be afraid about the powder,” 
said Henry. “Whatever happens, Sol and Tom will pro- 
tect it, even if their own bodies suffer.” 

“Then I’m thinkin’ they’ll have to do a lot of pro- 
tectin’,” said Long Jim. “The wind is blowin’ plum' 
horizontal, an’ the rain is sweepin’ ’long in sheets.” 

Henry, despite his consoling words, was very anx- 
ious. Since their great battle with the invading Indian 
force and the destruction of the cannon, their supply of 


2 


THE FLIGHT 


ammunition had run very low, and without powder and 
bullets they were lost in the wilderness. He walked to 
the narrow entrance of the cave, and, standing just 
where the rain could not reach him, looked out upon the 
cold and dripping forest, a splendid figure clothed in 
deerskin, specially adapted in both body and mind to wil- 
derness life. 

He saw nothing but the foliage bending before the 
wind and the chill sheets sent down by the clouds. The 
somber sky and the desolation would not have made him 
feel lonely, even had he been without his comrades. He 
had faced primeval nature too often and he knew it too 
well to be overcome or to be depressed by any of its 
dangers. Yet his heart would have leaped had he be- 
held the shiftless and the silent ones, making their way 
among the trees, the needed packs on their backs. 

“Any sign, Henry ?” asked Paul. 

“None,” replied the tall youth, “but they said they'd 
be here today.” 

Paul, who was lying on a great buffalo robe with his 
feet to the fire, shifted himself into an easier position. 
His face expressed content and he felt no anxiety about 
the traveling two. 

“If Shi f less Sol promised to be here he’ll keep his 
word,” he said, “and Silent Tom will come without mak- 
ing any promises.” 

“You do talk won’erful well sometimes, Paul,” said 
Long Jim, “an’ I reckon you’ve put the facts jest right. 
I ain’t goin’ to be troubled in my mind a-tall, a-tall ’bout 


3 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


them fellers. They’ll be here. Tom loves nice tender 
buffler steak best, an’ I’m goin’ to have it ready fur him, 
while Sol dotes most on fat juicy wild turkey, an’ that’ll 
be waitin’ fur him, too.” 

He turned to his stores, and producing the delicacies 
his comrades loved began to fry them over the coals. 
The pleasant odors filled their rocky home. 

“I give them two a half hour more,” he said. *T 
ain’t got any gift uv second sight. I don’t look into the 
future — nobody does — but I jest figger on what they are 
an’ what they kin do, an’ then I feel shore that a half 
hour more is enough.” 

“Henry,” asked Paul, “do you think the Miamis and 
the Shawnees will come back after us?” 

“I reckon upon it,” replied Henry, still watching the 
wet forest. “Red Eagle and Yellow Panther are shrewd 
and thoughtful chiefs, and Braxton Wyatt and Black- 
stafife are full of cunning. They are all able to put two 
and two together, and they know that it was we who 
destroyed their cannon when they attempted the big at- 
tack on the settlements. They’ll look upon us as the 
scouts and sentinels who see everything they do.” 

“The eyes of the woods,” said Paul. 

“Yes, that expresses it, and they’ll feel that they’re 
bound to destroy us. As soon as the warriors get over 
their panic they’ll come back to put out the eyes that see 
too much of their deeds. They know, of course, that we 
hold this hollow and that we’ve made a home here for 
a while.” 


4 


THE FLIGHT 


“But as they won’t return for some time i mean to 
take my comfort while I can,” said Paul sleepily. “I 
wouldn’t exchange this buffalo robe, the leaves under it, 
the fire before my feet and the roof of rock over my 
head for the finest house in all the provinces. The 
power of contrast makes my present situation one of 
great luxury.” 

“Power uv contrast! You do use a heap uv big 
words, Paul,” said Long Jim, “but I ’spose they’re all 
right. Leastways I don’t know they ain’t. Now, I’m 
holdin’ back this buffler steak an’ wild turkey, ’cause I 
want ’em to be jest right, when Sol an’ Tom set down 
afore the fire. See anythin’ cornin’ through the woods, 
Henry?” 

“No, Jim, nothing stirs there.” 

“It don’t bother me. They’ll ’pear in good time. 
They’ve a full ten minutes yet, an’ thar dinners will be 
jest right fur ’em. I hate to brag on myself, but I 
shorely kin cook. Ain’t we lucky fellers, Paul? It 
seems to me sometimes that Providence has done picked 
us out ez speshul favorites. Good fortune is plum’ show- 
ered on us. We’ve got a snug holler like this, one uv 
the finest homes a man could live in, an’ round us is a 
wilderness runnin’ thousands uv miles, chock full uv 
game, waitin’ to be hunted by us. Ev’ry time the sav- 
ages think they’ve got us, an’ it looks too ez ef they wuz 
right, we slip right out uv thar hands an’ the scalps are 
still growin’ full an* free, squar’ly on top uv our heads. 
We shorely do git away always, an’ it ’pears to me, Paul, 


5 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


that we are bout the happiest an’ most fort’nate people 
in the world.” 

Paul raised his head and looked at Jim, but it was 
evident to the lad that his long comrade was in dead 
earnest, and perhaps he was right. The lad shifted him- 
self again and the light of the blaze flickered over his 
finely-chiseled, scholarly face. Long Jim glanced at him 
with understanding. 

“Ef you had a book or two, Paul,” he said, “you 
could stay here waitin’ an’ be happy. Sometimes I wish 
that I liked to read. What’s in it, Paul, that kin chain 
you to one place an’ make you content to be thar ?” 

“Because in the wink of an eye, Jim, it transports you 
to another world. You are in new lands, and with new 
people, seeing what they do and doing it with them. It 
gives your mind change, though your body may lie still. 
Do you see anything yet, Henry, besides the forest and 
the rain?” 

“A black dot among the trees, Paul, but it’s very small 
and very far, and it may be a bear that’s wandered out in 
the wet. Besides, it’s two dots that we want to see, not 
one, and — as sure as I live there are two, moving this 
way, though they’re yet too distant for me to tell what 
they are.” 

“But since they’re two, and they’re coming towards us, 
they ought to be those whom we’re expecting.” 

“Now they’ve moved into a space free of undergrowth 
and I see them more clearly. They’re not bears, nor yet 
deer. They’re living human beings like ourselves.” 

6 


THE FLIGHT 


“Keep looking, Henry, and tell us whether you recog- 
nize ’em.” 

“The first is a tall man, young, with light hair. He is 
bent over a little because of the heavy pack on his back, 
and the long distance he has come, but he walks with a 
swing that I’ve seen before.” 

“I reckon,” said Long Jim, “that he’s close kin to that 
lazy critter, Shif’less Sol.” 

“Closer even than a twin brother,” continued Henry. 
“I’d know him anywhere. The other just behind him, 
and bent also a little with his heavy pack, is amazingly 
like a friend of ours, an old comrade who talks little, 
but who does much.” 

“None other than Silent Tom,” said Paul joyfully, as 
he rose and joined Henry at the door. “Yes, there they 
are, two men, staunch and true, and they bring the pow- 
der and lead. Of course they’d come on time! Nothing 
could stop ’em. The whole Shawnee and Miami na- 
tions might be in between, but they’d find a way 
through.” 

“An’ the buffler steak an' the wild turkey are jest 
right,” called Long Jim. “Tell ’em to come straight in 
an’ set down to the table.” 

Henry, putting his fingers to his lips, uttered a long 
and cheerful whistle. The shiftless one and the silent 
one, raising their heads, made glad reply. They were 
soaked and tired, but success and journey’s end lay just 
before them, and they advanced with brisker steps, to be 
greeted with strong clasps of the hand and a warm wel- 


7 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


come. They entered the rocky home, put aside the big 
packs with sighs of relief and spread out their fingers 
to the grateful heat. 

“That’s the last work I mean to do fur a year,” said 
Shif’less Sol. “ ’Twuz a big job, a mighty big job fur 
me, a lazy man, an’ now I’m goin’ to rest fur months 
an’ months, while Long Jim waits on me an’ feeds 
me.” 

“Jest now I’m glad to do it, Sol,” said Jim. “Take 
off your clothes, you an’ Tom, hang ’em on the shelf 
thar to dry, an’ now set to. The steaks an’ the turkey 
are the finest I ever cooked, an’ they’re all fur you two. 
An’ I kin tell you fellers that the sight uv you is good 
fur weak eyes.” 

Shif’less Sol and Silent Tom ate like epicures, while, 
denuded of their wet deerskins but wrapped in dry blan- 
kets, they basked in the heat. 

“Not a drop of rain got at the powder,” said the shift- 
less one presently, “an’ even ef we don’t capture any 
from the Injuns we ought to hev enough thar to last us 
many months.” 

“Did you see anything of the warriors ?” asked Henry. 

“We hit one trail ’bout fifty miles south uv here, but 
we didn’t have time to foller it. Still, it’s ’nough to 
show that they’re in between us an’ the settlements.” 

“We expected it. We discovered sufficient while you 
were gone to be sure they’re going to make a great ef- 
fort to end us. They look upon us as the eyes of the 
woods, and they’ve concluded that their first business is 


3 


THE FLIGHT 


with us before they make another attack on our vil- 
lages ” 

Shif’less Sol helped himself to a fresh piece of the 
wild turkey, and made another fold of the blanket about 
his athletic body. 

“Paul hez talked so much ’bout them old Romans 
wrapped in their togys that I feel like one now,” he 
said, “an’ I kin tell you I feel pow’ful fine, too. That 
wuz a cold rain an’ a wet rain, an’ the fire an’ the food 
are mighty good, but it tickles me even more to know 
how them renegades an’ warriors rage ag’inst us. I’ve 
a heap c’ respeck fur Red Eagle an’ Yellow Panther, 
who are great chiefs an’ who are fightin’ fur thar rights 
ez they see ’em, but the madder Blackstaffe an’ Wyatt 
git the better I like it.” 

“Me, too,” said Silent Tom with emphasis, relapsing 
then into silence and his preoccupation with the buffalo 
steak. The shiftless one regarded him with a measur- 
ing gaze. 

“Tom,” he said, “why can’t you let a feller finish his 
dinner without chatterin’ furever? I see the day cornin’ 
when you’ll talk us all plum’ to death.” 

Silent Tom shook his head in dissent. He had ex- 
hausted speech. 

Paul, who had remained at the door, watching, an- 
nounced an increase of rain and wind. Both were driv- 
ing so hard that leaves and twigs were falling, and dark- 
ness as of twilight spread over the skies. The cold, 
although but temporary, was like that of early winter. 


9 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“We needn’t expect any attack now,” said Henry. 
“Join us, Paul, around the fire, and we’ll have a grand 
council, because we must decide how we’re going to meet 
the great man hunt they’re organizing for us.” 

Paul left the cleft, and sat down on a doubled blanket 
with his back against the wall. He felt the full gravity 
of the crisis, knowing that hundreds of warriors would 
be put upon their trail, resolved never to leave the search 
until the five were destroyed, but he had full confidence 
in his comrades. In all the world there were not five 
others so fit to overcome the dangers of the woods, and 
so able to endure their hardships. 

“I suppose, Henry,” said Paul, with his mind full of 
ancient lore, “now that the Roman Senate, or its suc- 
cessor, is in session you are its presiding officer.” 

“If that’s the wish of the rest of you,” said Henry. 

“It is!” they said all together. 

Henry, Like Paul, was sitting on his doubled blanket 
with his back against the stony wall. Jim Hart, his long 
legs crossed, occupied a similar position, and, by the 
flickering light of the fire, Shi f ’less Sol and Silent Tom, 
wrapped in their blankets, looked in truth like Roman 
senators. 

“Will you tell us, Henry, what you found out while 
we wuz away?” asked the shiftless one. Henry had 
made a scouting expedition while the two were gone for 
the powder and lead. 

“I made one journey across the Ohio,” replied their 
chief, “and at night I went near a Shawnee village. Red 


io 


THE FLIGHT 


Eagle was there, and so were Blackstaffe and Wyatt. 
Lying in the bushes near the fire by which they sat, I 
could catch enough of their talk to learn that the Shaw- 
nee and Miami nations are going to bend all their ener- 
gies and powers to our destruction. That is settled.” 

“I feel a heap flattered,” said Shif’less Sol, “that so 
many warriors should be sent ag’inst us, who are only 
five. What wuz it that old feller was always sayin’, 
Paul, every time he held up a bunch o’ fresh figs before 
the noses o’ the Roman senators ?” 

“Delenda est Carthago , which is Latin, Sol, and it 
means just now, when I give it a liberal translation, that 
we five must be wiped clean off the face of the earth.” 

“I’ve heard you say often, Paul, that Latin was a dead 
language, an’ so all them old dead sayin’s won’t hev any 
meanin’ fur us. I kin live long on the threats o’ Brax- 
ton Wyatt an’ Blackstaffe, an’ so kin all o’ us. But go 
on, Henry. I ’pologize fur interruptin’ the presidin’ 
officer.” 

“I learned all I could there,” continued Henry, “but I 
was able to gather only their general intention, that is 
their resolve to crush us, a plan that both Wyatt and 
Blackstaffe urged. However, when I trailed a large 
band two days later, and crept near their camp, I dis- 
covered more.” 

“What wuz it?” exclaimed the shiftless one, leaning 
forward a little, his face showing tense and eager in the 
glow of the flames. 

“They’re going to spread a net for us. Not one body 


ii 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of warriors will seek us, but many. Red Eagle will 
lead a band, Yellow Panther will be at the head of an- 
other, Braxton Wyatt will be in charge of a third, Black- 
staffe will take a fourth, and there will be at least seven 
or eight more, though some of them may unite later. 
Shif’less Sol has put it right. We’ll be honored as men 
were never honored .before in this wilderness. At least 
a thousand warriors, brave and skillful men, all, will be 
hunting us, two hundred to one and maybe more.” 

“And while they’re hunting us,” said Paul, his eyes 
glistening, “we’ll draw ’em off from the settlements, and 
we’ll be serving our people just as much as we did when 
we were destroying the big guns, and filling the warriors 
with superstitious alarm.” 

“True in every word,” said Henry, his soul rising for 
the contest. “Let ’em come on and we’ll lead ’em such 
a chase that their feet will be worn to the bone, and their 
minds will be full of despair !” 

“You put it right,” said the shiftless one. “I think 
I’ll enjoy bein’ a fox fur awhile. The forest is full o’ 
holes an’ dens, an’ when they dig me out o’ one I’ll be 
off fur another.” 

“We know the wilderness as well as they do,” said 
Henry, “and we can use as many tricks as they can. 
Now, since they’re spreading a great net, we must take 
the proper steps to evade it. Having besieged our refuge 
here once, they’ll naturally look again for us in this 
place. If they catch us inside they’ll sit outside until 
they starve us to death.” 


12 


THE FLIGHT 


“Which means,” said Paul regretfully, “that we must 
leave our nice dry home.” 

“So it does, but not, I think, before tomorrow morn- 
ing, and we’ll use the hours meanwhile to good advan- 
tage. We must begin at once molding into bullets the 
lead that Sol and Tom brought.” 

Every one of the five carried with him that necessary 
implement in the wilderness, a bullet mold, and they be- 
gan the task immediately, all save Henry, who went out- 
side, despite the fierce rain, and scouted a bit among the 
bushes and trees. The four made bullets fast, melting 
the lead in a ladle that Jim carried, pouring it into the 
molds, and then dropping the shining and deadly pellets 
one by one into their pouches. Three of them talked as 
they worked, but Silent Tom did not speak for a full 
hour. Then he said: 

“We’ll have five hundred apiece.” 

Shi f ’less Sol looked at him reprovingly. 

“Tom,” he said, “I predicted a while ago that the time 
wuz soon cornin’ when you’d talk us to death. You used 
five words then, when you know your ’lowance is only 
one an hour.” 

Tom Ross flushed under his tan. He hated, above all 
things, to be garrulous. “Sorry,” he muttered, and con- 
tinued his work with renewed energy and speed. The 
bullets seemed to drop in a shining stream from his 
mold into his pouch. But Shi f ’less Sol talked without 
ceasing, his pleasant chatter encouraging them, as music 
cheers troops for battle. 


13 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“It ain’t right fur me to hev to work this way,” he 
said, “me sich a lazy man. I ought to lay over thar on 
a blanket, an’ go to sleep while Jim does my share ez 
well ez his own.” 

“When I’m doin’ your share, Sol Hyde,” said Long 
Jim, “you’ll be dead. Not till then will I ever tech a 
finger to your work. You are a lazy man, ez you say, 
an’ fur sev’ral years now I’ve been tryin’ to cure you 
uv it, but I ain’t made no progress that I kin see.” 

“I don’t want you to make progress, Jim. I like to 
be lazy, an’ jest now I feel pow’ful fine, fed well, an’ 
lavin’ here, wrapped in a blanket before a good warm 
fire.” 

Henry went back to the cleft, and took another long 
look. The conditions had not changed, save that night 
was coming and the wilderness was chill and hostile. 
The wind blew with a steady shrieking sound, and the 
driving rain struck like sleet. Leaves fell before it, and 
in every depression of the earth the water stood in pools. 
Over this desolate scene the faint sun was sinking and 
the twilight, colder and more solemn than the day, was 
creeping. He looked at the wet forest and the coming 
dusk, and then back at the dry hollow and the warm fire 
behind him. The contrast was powerful, but only one 
choice was left to them. 

“Boys,” he said, “we’ll have to make the most of to- 
night.” 

“Because we must leave our home in the morning?” 
said Paul. 


14 


THE FLIGHT 


‘‘Yes, that’s it. We’ll have to take to the woods, no 
matter how hard it is. Chance doesn’t favor us this 
time. I fancy the band led by Braxton Wyatt will make 
straight for our house here.” 

“Since it’s the last dry bed I’ll have fur some time I’m 
goin’ to sleep,” said Shif’less Sol plaintively. “Every- 
body pesters a lazy man, an’ I mean to use the little time 
I hev.” 

“You’ve a right to it, Sol,” said Henry, “because you’ve 
walked long and far, and you’ve brought what we needed 
most. The sooner you and Tom go to sleep the better. 
Paul, you join ’em and Jim and I will watch.” 

The shiftless one and the silent one turned on their 
sides, rested their heads on their arms and in a minute 
or two were off to the land of slumber. Paul was slower, 
but in a quarter of an hour or so he followed them to 
the same happy region. Long Jim put out the fire, lest 
the gleam of the coals through the cleft should betray 
their presence to a creeping enemy — although neither he 
nor Henry expected any danger at present — and took his 
place beside his watchful comrade. 

The two did not talk, but in the long hours of rain 
and darkness they guarded the entrance. Their eyes be- 
came so used to the dusk that they could see far, but 
they saw nothing alive save, late in the night, a lumber- 
ing black bear, driven abroad and in the storm by some 
restless spirit. Long Jim watched the ungainly form, 
as it shambled out of sight into a thicket. 

“A bad conscience, I reckon,” he said. “That b’ar 


15 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


would be layin’ snug in his den ef he didn’t hev some- 
thin’ on his mind. He’s ramblin’ ’roun’ in the rain an’ 
cold, cause’s he’s done a wrong deed, an’ can’t sleep fur 
thinkin’ uv it. Stole his pardner’s berries an’ roots, 
mebbe.” 

“Perhaps you’re right, Jim,” Henry said, “and ani- 
mals may have consciences. We human beings are so 
conceited that we think we alone feel the difference be- 
tween right and wrong.” 

“I know one thing, Henry, I know that b’ars an* 
panthers wouldn’t leave thar own kind an’ fight ag’inst 
thar own race, as Braxton Wyatt an’ Blackstaffe do. 
That black b’ar we jest saw may feel sore an’ bad, but 
he ain’t goin’ to lead no expedition uv strange animals 
ag’inst the other black b’ars.” 

“You’re right, Jim.” 

“An’ fur that reason, Henry, I respeck a decent hon- 
est black b’ar, even ef he is mad at hisself fur some leetle 
mistake, an’ even ef he can’t read an’ write an’ don’t 
know a knife from a fork more than I do a renegade 
man who’s huntin’ the scalps uv them he ought to help.” 

“Well spoken, Jim. Your sense of right and wrong 
is correct nearly always. Like you, I’ve a lot of respect 
for the black bear, and also for the deer and the buffalo 
and the panther and the other people of the woods. Do 
you think the rain is dying somewhat ?” 

“ ’Pears so. to me. It may stop by day an’ give us a 
chance to leave without a soakin’.” 

They relapsed again into a long silence, but they saw 

16 


r 


THE FLIGHT 


that their hope was coming true. The wind was sink- 
ing, its shriek shrinking to a whisper and then to a sigh. 
The rain ceased to beat so hard, coming by and by only 
in fitful showers, while rays of moonlight, faint at first, 
began to appear in the western sky. In another half 
hour the last shower came and passed, but the forest 
was still heavy with dripping waters. Henry, neverthe- 
less, knew that it was time to go, and he awakened the 
sleepers. 

“We must make up our packs/’ he said. 

The five worked with speed and skill. All the lead, 
newly brought, had been molded into bullets, and the 
powder, save that in their horns, was carried in bags. 
This, with the blankets and portions of food, consti- 
tuted most of their packs. Some furs and skins they left 
to those who might come, and then they slipped from 
the warm hollow, which had furnished such a grateful 
shelter to them. 

“It’s just as well,” said Henry, “that we should let 
’em think we’re still in there. Then they may waste a 
day or two in approaching, so hide your footprints.” 

The earth was soft from the rain, but the stony out- 
crop ran a long distance, and they walked on it cau- 
tiously so far as it went, after which they continued on 
the fallen trunks and brush, with which the forest had 
been littered by the winds of countless years. They 
were able, without once touching foot to ground, to 
reach a brook, into which they stepped, following its 
course at least two miles. When they emerged at last 


1 7 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


they sat down on stones and let the water run from 
their moccasins and leggings. 

“I don’t like getting wet, this way,” said Henry, “but 
there was no choice. At least, we know we’ve come a 
great distance and have left no trail. There’ll be no 
chance to surprise us now. How long would you say it 
is till day, Sol?” 

“ ’Bout two hours,” replied the shiftless one, “an’ I 
’spose we might ez well stay here a while. We’re south 
o’ the hollow an’ Wyatt an’ his band are purty shore to 
come out o’ the north. The woods are mighty wet, but 
the day is goin’ to be without rain, an’ a good sun will 
dry things fast. What we want is to git a new home fur 
a day or two, in some deep thicket.” 

They began to search and presently found a dense 
tangle, with several large trees growing near the center 
of it, the trunk of one of them hollowed out by time. In 
the opening they put their bags of powder, part of their 
bullets and other supplies, and then, wrapped in their 
blankets, sat down in the brush before it. 

“Now, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol, “it’s shore that we 
ain’t goin’ to be besieged, though our empty holler may 
be, an’ that bein’ the case, an’ the trouble bein’ passed 
fur the moment, you an’ Jim, who watched most o’ the 
night, go to sleep, an’ Tom an’ Paul too might take up 
thar naps whar they left ’em off. I’ll do the watchin’, 
an’ I’ll take a kind o’ pride in doin’ it all by myself.” 

The others made no protest, but, leaning their backs 
against the tree trunks, soon fell asleep, while the shift- 


18 


THE FLIGHT 


less one, rifle under his arm, went to tHe edge of the 
canebrake, and began his patrol. He bore little resem- 
blance to a lazy man now. He was, next to Henry, the 
greatest forest runner of the five, a marvel of skill, en- 
durance and perception, with a mighty heart beating be- 
neath his deerskins, and an intellect of wonderful native 
power, reasoning and drawing deductions under his 
thatch of blonde hair. 

Shi f ’less SqJ listened to the drip, drip of water from 
the wet boughs and leaves, and he watched a great sun, 
red and warm, creep slowly over the eastern hills. He 
was not uncomfortable, nor was he afraid of anything, 
but he was angry. He remembered with regret the pleas- 
ant hollow, so dry and snug. It belonged, by right of 
discovery and improvement, to his comrades and him- 
self, but it might soon be defiled by the presence of In- 
dians, led by the hated renegade, Braxton Wyatt. They 
would sleep on his favorite bed of leaves, they would 
cook where Long Jim Hart had cooked so well, though 
they could never equal him, and they would certainly 
take as their own the furs and skins they had been com- 
pelled to leave behind. 

The more he thought of it the stronger his wrath grew. 
Had it not been for his fear of leaving a betraying trail 
he would have gone back to see if the warriors were 
already approaching the hollow; but his sense of duty 
and obvious necessity kept him at the edge of the brake 
in which his comrades lay, deep in happy slumber. 

Morning advanced, warm and beautiful, sprinkling the 


19 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


world at first with silver and then with gold, the sky 
gradually turning to a deep velvety blue, as intense as 
any that the shiftless one had ever seen. The myriads 
of raindrops stood out at first like silver beads on grass 
and leaves, and then dried up rapidly under the brilliant 
rays of the sun. A light breeze blew through the foliage, 
and sang a pleasant song as it blew. 

Shif’less Sol felt a wonderful uplift of the spirits. 
In the darkness and rain of the night before he might 
have been depressed somewhat at leaving their good shel- 
ter for the wet wilderness, but in the splendid dawn he 
was all buoyancy and confidence. 

“Let ’em come,” he said to himself. “Let Braxton 
Wyatt an’ Blackstaffe an’ all the Miamis an’ Shawnees 
hunt us fur a year, but they won’t get us, no, not one 
of us.” 

Then he sank silently in the deep grass and slid cau- 
tiously away, not toward the dense brake, but to a point 
well to one side. His acute ear had heard a sound which 
was not a part of the morning, and while it might be 
made by a wild animal, then again it might be caused 
by wilder man. He thanked his wary soul, when, look- 
ing above the tops of the grass, he saw two warriors, 
Shawnees by their paint, emerge from the woods and 
walk northward, to be followed presently by a full score 
more, Braxton Wyatt himself at their head. 

And so the band had come out of the south, instead 
of the north! Doubtless they had circled about before 
approaching, in order to make the surprise complete, 


20 


THE FLIGHT 


and the trigger drew the finger of the shiftless one like 
a magnet, as he looked at the renegade, the most ruth- 
less hunter among those who hunted the five. Although 
the temptation to do so was strong, Shif’less Sol did not 
fire, knowing that his bullet would draw the attack of 
the band upon his comrades and himself. Instead, he 
followed them cautiously about half a mile. 

He was confirmed in his opinion — in truth, little short 
of certainty in the first instance — that they were march- 
ing against the hollow, and its supposed inmates, as pres- 
ently they began to advance with extreme care, kneel- 
ing down in the undergrowth and sending out flankers. 
Shif’less Sol laughed. It was a low laugh, but deep, 
and full of unction. He knew that the farther march 
of Wyatt and his warriors would be very slow, having 
in mind the deadly rifles of the five, the muzzles of 
which they would feel sure were projecting from the 
mouth of the rocky retreat. It was likely that the entire 
morning would be spent in an enveloping movement, 
dusky figures creeping forward inch by inch in a semi- 
circle, and then nothing would be inside the semi-circle. 

Shif’less Sol laughed to himself again, and with the 
same deep and heartfelt unction. Then he turned and 
went back to his comrades, who yet slept soundly in the 
brake. The cane was so dense that they lay in the dim- 
ness of the shadows, and there was no disturbing light 
upon their eyes to awaken them. Shif’less Sol contem- 
plated them with satisfaction, and then he sat down si- 
lently near them. He saw no reason to awaken them. 


21 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Braxton Wyatt was now formally arranging the siege 
of the rocky refuge and its vanished defenders, and he 
would not interrupt him for worlds in that congenial 
task. For the third time he laughed to himself with 
depth and unction. 

The sun rose higher in a sky that arched in its per- 
fect blue over a day of dazzling beauty. The last drop 
of rain on leaf or grass dried up, and the forest was a 
deep green, suffused and tinted, though, with a luminous 
golden glow from the splendid sun. The shiftless one 
raised his head and inhaled its clear, sweet odors, the 
great heart under the deerskins and the great brain under 
the thatch of hair alike sending forth a challenge. Not all 
the Shawnees, not all the Miamis, not all the renegades 
could drive the five from this mighty, unoccupied wil- 
derness of Kain-tuck-ee, which his comrades and he 
loved and in which they had as good a right as any 
Indian or renegade that ever lived. 

It was so still in the canebrake that the birds over the 
head of the watcher began to sing. Another black bear 
lumbered toward them, and, catching the strange, human 
odor, lumbered away again. A deer, a tall buck, holding 
up his head, sniffed the air, and then ran. Wild tur- 
keys in a distant tree gobbled, a bald eagle clove the air 
on swift wing, but the sleepers slept placidly on. 


CHAPTER II 


THE GREAT JOKE 

M ID-MORNING and Henry awoke, yawning a 
little and stretching himself mightily. Then he 
looked questioningly at Shif’less Sol who sat in 
a position of great luxury with his doubled blanket be- 
tween his back and a tree trunk, and his rifle across his 
knees. The look of satisfaction that had come there in 
the morning like a noon glow still overspread his tanned 
and benevolent countenance. 

“Well, Sol ?” 

“Well, Henry?” 

“What has happened while we slept?” 

“Nothin’, ’cept that Braxton Wyatt an’ twenty Shaw- 
nee warriors passed, takin’ no more notice o’ us than 
ef we wuz leaves o’ the forest.” 

“Advancing on our old house?” 

“Yes, they’ve set the siege by now.” 

“And we’re not there. I’ll wake the others. They 
must share in the joke.” 

Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom wiped the last wisp 
of sleep from their eyes, and, when they heard the tale of 


23 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


a night and a morning, they too laughed to themselves 
with keen enjoyment. 

“What will we do, Henry ?” Paul asked. 

“First, we’ll eat breakfast, though it’s late. Then we’ll 
besiege the besiegers. While they’re drawing the net 
which doesn’t enclose us we might as well do ’em all 
the harm we can. We’re going to be dangerous fugi- 
tives.” 

The five laughed in unison. 

“We’ll make Braxton Wyatt and the Shawnees think 
the forest is full of enemies,” said Paul. 

Meanwhile they took their ease, and ate breakfast of 
wild turkey, buffalo steak and a little corn bread that 
they hoarded jealously. The sun continued its slow 
climb toward the zenith and Paul, looking up through 
the canes, thought he had never seen a finer day. Then 
he remembered something. 

“I suggest that we don’t move today,” he said. “They 
won’t approach the hollow until night anyway, and it 
wouldn’t hurt for us to lie here in the shelter of the 
brake and rest until dark.” 

Henry looked at him in surprise. 

“Your idea is sudden and I don’t understand it,” he 
said. 

So it is, Henry, but it never occurred to me until a 
moment ago that this was Sunday. We haven’t observed 
Sunday in a long time, and now is our chance. We can’t 
wholly forget our training.” 

He spoke almost with apology, but the leader did not 


24 


THE GREAT JOKE 


upbraid him. Instead, he looked at the others and found 
agreement in their eyes. 

“Paul talks in a cur’ous manner an’ has cur’ous no- 
tions sometimes,” said Shif’less Sol, “but I don’t say they 
ain’t good. It’s a long time since we’ve paid any ’tention 
to Sunday, but the idee sticks in my mind. Mebbe it 
would be a good way fur us to start our big fight ag’inst 
the tribes an’ the renegades.” 

“When Cromwell and his Ironsides advanced against 
the Royalists,” said Paul, “they knelt down and prayed 
first on the very field of battle. Then they advanced with 
their pikes in a solid line, and nothing was ever able to 
stand before them.” 

“Then we’ll keep Sunday,” said Henry decisively. 

Paul, feeling a thrill of satisfaction, lay back on his 
blanket. The idea that they should observe Sunday, that 
it would be a good omen and beginning, had taken hold 
of him with singular power. His character was devout 
and a life in the wilderness among its fnighty manifes- 
tations deepened its quality. Like the Indian he wanted 
the spirits of earth and air on his side. 

The five had acquired the power of silence and to rest 
intensely when nothing was to be done. Their food fin- 
ished, they lay back against their doubled blankets in a 
calm and peace that was deep and enduring. It was not 
necessary to go to the edge of the canebrake, as in the 
brilliant light of the day they might be noticed there, and, 
where they lay, they could see anyone who came long 
before he arrived. 


25 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Paul, as he breathed, absorbed belief and confidence 
in their success. Surely so bright a sky bending over 
them was a good omen! and the tall canes themselves, 
as they bent before the wind, whispered to him that all 
would be well. Henry in his own way was no less im- 
aginative than his young comrade. He let his eyelids 
droop, not to sleep, but to listen. Then as no one of 
the five stirred, he too heard the voice of the wind, but 
it sang to him a song far more clear than any Paul heard. 
It told of triumphs achieved and others yet to come, 
and, as the great youth lifted his lazy lids and looked 
around at the others, he felt that they were equal to 
any task. 

The afternoon, keeping all its promise of brilliant 
beauty, waxed and waned. The great sun dipped behind 
the forest. The twilight came, at first a silver veil, 
then a robe of dusk, and after it a night luminous 
with a clear moon and myriads of stars wrapped the 
earth, touching every leaf and blade of grass with a 
white glow. 

Still the five did not stir. For a long time they had 
seemed a part of the forest itself, and the wild animals 
and birds, rejoicing in the dry and beautiful night after 
the stormy one that had passed, took them to be such, 
growing uncommonly brave. The restless black bear 
came back, looked at them, and then sniffing dis- 
dainfully went away to hunt for roots. The great wings 
of the eagle almost brushed the cane that hung over 
Henry’s head, but the little red eyes were satisfied that 


26 


THE GREAT JOKE 


what they saw was not living, and the dark body flashed 
on in search of its prey. 

“Three hours more at least, Paul,” said Henry at last, 
“until Sunday is over.” 

“And I suggest that we wait the full three hours be- 
fore we make any movement. I know it looks foolish in 
me to say it, but the feeling is very strong on me that it 
will be a good thing to do.” 

“Not foolish at all, Paul. I look at it just as you do, 
and since we’ve begun the observance we ought to carry 
it through to the finish. You agree with me, don’t you, 
boys?” 

“I shorely do,” said the shiftless one. 

“Ef Paul thinks it’s right it’s right,” said Long Jim. 

“Can’t hurt anythin’; it may help,” said Silent Tom. 

They resumed their silence and waiting, and mean- 
while they listened attentively for any sound that 
might come from those who were stalking their old 
home. But the deep stillness continued, save for the 
light song of the wind that sang continually among the 
leaves. Henry, in his heart, was truly glad of Paul’s 
idea, and that they had concluded to observe it. A spir- 
itual atmosphere clothed them all. They had come of 
religious parents, and the borderer, moreover, always 
personified the great forces of nature, before which he 
was reverential. The five now were like the Romans 
and the Greeks, who were anxious to propitiate the gods 
ere going into action. 

Henry gazed at the moon, a silver globe in the heavens, 
27 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


and he distinctly saw the man upon its surface, who 
returned his looks with benevolence, while the countless 
stars about it quivered and glittered and shed a pro- 
pitious light. Then 7 he gazed at his comrades, resting 
against the trunks of the trees, and unreal in the silver 
mist. They were yet so still that the wild animals might 
well take them to be lifeless, and the power to sit there 
so long without stirring a muscle was one acquired only 
by warriors and scouts. 

A faint whining cry came out of the silver dark, a 
sound that had traveled a great distance on waves of air, 
and every one of the five understood it, on the instant. 
It was one of the most ominous sounds of the forest, 
a sound full of ferocity and menace, the how! of the 
wolf, but they knew it came from human lips, that, in 
truth, it was a signal ordered by the leader of the be- 
sieging band. Presently the reply, a similar cry, came 
from another point of the compass, traveling like the first 
on waves of air, until it died away in a savage undernote. 

“They’ve probably set their lines all the way around 
our hollow, and they’re sure now they’ll hold us fast,” 
said Henry, with grim irony. 

“That’s ’bout it, I take it,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ it 
’pears to me that this is the time for us to laugh, purvidin’ 
it won’t be in any way breakin’ uv our agreement to keep 
the day till its very last minute.” 

He looked questioningly at Paul. 

“To laugh is not against our compact,” replied the lad, 
“since it has such good cause. When a net is cast for 

28 


THE GREAT JOKE 


us, and those who cast it are so confident we're in it, 
we’ve a right to laugh as long as we’re outside it.” 

“Then,” said Shi f ’less Sol with conviction, “ez thar’s 
so much to laugh at, an’ we’ve all agreed to laugh, we’ll 
laugh.” 

The five accordingly laughed, but the laughs were 
soundless. Their eyes twinkled, their lips twitched, but 
the canebrake, save for the ceaseless rustle of the sing- 
ing wind, was as silent as ever. No one five feet away 
would have known that anybody was laughing. 

“Thar, I feel better,” said Shif’less Sol, when his face 
quit moving, “but though they’re a long distance off 
I kin see with my mind’s eyes Braxton Wyatt an’ his 
band stalkin’ us in our home in the rock, an’ claspin’ us 
in a grip that can’t be shook off.” 

“Shettin’ down on us,” said Silent Tom. 

The shiftless one bent upon him a reproving look. 

“Thar you are, Tom!” he said, “talkin ’us to death 
ag’in. Can’t you ever give your tongue no rest?” 

Silent Tom blushed once more under his tan, but said 
nothing, abashed by his comrade’s stern rebuke. 

“Yes, I kin see Braxton Wyatt an’ his band stalkin’ 
us,” resumed Shif’less Sol, having the floor, or rather 
the earth, again to himself. “Braxton’s heart is full o’ 
unholy glee. He is sayin’ to hisself that we can’t git 
away from him this time, that he’s stretched ’bout us a 
ring, through which we’ll never break. He’s laughin’ to 
hisself jest az we laugh to ourselves, though with less 
cause. He’s sayin’ that he an’ his warriors will set down 


29 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


at a safe distance from our rifles an’ wait patiently till 
we starve to death or give up an’ trust ourselves to his 
tender mercy. He’s braggin’ to hisself ’bout his patience, 
how he kin set thar fur a month, ef it’s needed, an’ I 
kin read his mind. He’s thinkin’ that even ef we give 
up it won’t make no diff’unce. Our scalps will hang up 
to dry jest the same, an’ he will take most joy in lookin’ 
at yours, Henry, your ha’r is so fine an’ so thick an’ so 
yellow, an’ he hez such a pizen hate o’ you.” 

“Your fancy is surely alive tonight, Sol,” said Henry, 
“and I believe the thought of Braxton Wyatt’s disap- 
pointment later on is what has stirred it up so much.” 

“I ’low you’re right, Henry, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout the 
grief o’ that villain, Blackstaffe, too. Oh, he’ll be a 
terrible sorrowful man when the net’s closed, an’ he 
finds thar’s nothin’ in it. It will be the great big dis- 
appointment o’ his life an’ I ’low it will be some time 
afore Moses Blackstaffe kin recover from the blow.” 

The silent laugh again overspread the countenance of 
the shiftless one and lingered there. It was one of the 
happiest moments that he had ever known. There was 
no malice in his nature, but he knew the renegades were 
hunting for his life with a vindictiveness and cruelty sur- 
passing that of the Indians themselves, and he would not 
have been true to human nature had he not obeyed the 
temptation to rejoice. 

“A half hour more and Sunday will have passed,” 
said Henry, who was again attentively surveying the 
man in the moon. 


30 


THE GREAT JOKE 


“An’ then,” said Long Jim, “we’ll take a look at what 
them fellers are doin’.” 

“It will be a good move on our part, and if we can 
think of any device to make ’em sure we’re still in the 
hollow it will help still more.” 

“Which means,” said Paul, “that one of us must pass 
through their lines and fire upon them from the inside, 
that is, he must give concrete proof that he’s in the net.” 

“Big words!” muttered Long Jim. 

“I think you put it about right,” said Henry. 

“Mighty dang’rous,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“I expected to undertake it,” said Henry. 

“You speak too quick,” said the shiftless one. “I said 
it wuz dang’rous ’cause I want it fur myself. It’s got to 
be a cunnin’ sort o’ deed, jest the kind that will suit me.” 

“By agreement I’m the leader, and I’ve chosen this 
duty for myself,” said Henry firmly. 

“Thar are times when I don’t like you a-tall, a-tall, 
Henry,” said Shif’less Sol plaintively. “You’re always 
pickin’ out the good risky adventures fur yourse’f. Ef 
thar’s any fine, lively thing that will make a feller’s ha’r 
stan’ up straight on end an’ the chills chase one another 
up an’ down his back, you’re sure to grab it off, an’ say it 
wuz jest intended fur you. That ain’t the right way to 
treat the rest o’ us nohow.” 

“No, it ain’t,” grumbled Silent Tom, but Shif’less Sol 
turned fiercely on him. 

“Beginnin’ to talk us to death ag’in, are you, Tom 
Ross?” he exclaimed. “Runnin’ on forever with that 


31 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


garrylous tongue o’ youm ! You jest let me have this out 
with Henry!” 

Again Tom Ross blushed in the darkness and under 
the tan. A terrible fear seized him that he had indeed 
grown garrulous, a man of many and empty words. It 
was all right for Shif’less Sol to talk on forever, because 
the words flowed from his lips in a liquid stream, like 
water coursing down a smooth channel, but it did not 
become Tom Ross, from whom sentences were wrenched 
as one would extract a tooth. Paul laughed softly but 
with intense enjoyment. 

“When I die, seventy or eighty years from now,” he 
said, “and go to Heaven, I expect, when I pass through 
the golden gates, to hear a steady and loud but pleasant 
buzz. It will go on and on, without ceasing. Maybe it 
will be the droning of bees, but it won’t be. Maybe it 
will be the roar of water over a fall, but it won’t be. 
Maybe it will be a strong wind among the boughs, but 
it won’t be. Oh, no, it will be none of those things. It 
will be one Solomon Hyde, formerly of Kentucky, and 
they’ll tell me that his tongue has never stopped since 
he came to Heaven ten years before, and off in one 
corner there’ll be a silent individual, Tom Ross, who 
entered Heaven at the same time. And they’ll say that 
in all the ten years he has spoken only once and that was 
when he passed the gates, looked all around and said: 
‘Good, but not much better than the Ohio Country.’ ” 

Both Shif’less Sol and Silent Tom grinned, but the 
discussion was not pursued, as Henry announced that 


32 


THE GREAT JOKE 


he was about to leave them in order to enter the Indian 
ring, and make Wyatt and the warriors think the rocky 
hollow was defended. 

“The rest of you would better stay in the canebrakes 
or the thickets/' he said. 

“We won’t go so fur away that we can’t hear any 
signal you may make,” said Long Jim Hart. “Give us 
the cry uv the wolf. Thar are lots uv wolves in these 
woods, Injun an’ other kinds, but we know yourn from 
the rest, Henry.” 

“And don’t take too big risks,” said Paul. 

“I won’t,” said Henry, and he quickly vanished from 
their sight among the bushes. Two hundred yards away, 
and he stopped, but he could not hear them moving. 
Nor had he expected that any sound would come from 
them to him, knowing that they would lie wholly still 
for a long time, awaiting his passage through the Indian 
lines. 

The heart of the great youth swelled within him. As 
truly a son of the wilderness as primitive man had been 
thousands of years ago, before civilization had begun, 
when he depended upon the acuteness of his senses to 
protect him from monstrous wild beasts, he was as much 
at home now as the ordinary man felt in city streets, and 
he faced his great task not only without apprehension, 
but with a certain delight. He had the Indian’s cunning 
and the white man’s intellect as well, and he was eager 
to match wits and cunning against those of the warriors. 

He would have been glad had the night turned a little 


33 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


darker, but the full burnished moon and showers of stars 
gave no promise of it, and he must rely upon his own 
judgment to seek the shadows, and to pass where they 
lay thickest. The forest, spread about him, was mag- 
nificent with oak and beech and elm of great size, but 
the moonlight and the starshine shone between the trunks, 
and moving objects would have been almost as conspicu- 
ous there as in the day. Hence he sought the brushwood, 
and advancing swiftly in its shelter, he approached the 
place that had been such a comfortable home for the 
five, but which they had thought it wise to abandon. A 
whimsical fancy, a desire to repay them for the evil they 
were doing, seized him. He would not only draw the 
warriors on, but he would annoy and tantalize them. 
He would make them think the evil spirits were having 
sport with them. 

A half mile, and he sank to the earth, lying so still 
that anyone a yard away could not have heard him 
breathe. Two warriors stood under the boughs of an 
oak and they were looking in the direction of the hollow. 
He had no doubt they were watchers, posted there to 
prevent the flight of the besieged in that direction, and 
he was shaken with silent laughter at this spectacle of 
men who stood guard that none might pass, when there 
was none to pass. He was already having his revenge 
upon them for the trouble they were causing and he felt 
that the task of repayment was beginning well. 

The two Shawnees walked back and forth a little, 
searching everything with their questing eyes, but they 


34 


THE GREAT JOKE 


did not speak. Presently they turned somewhat to one 
side, and Henry, still using the shelter of the brushwood, 
flitted silently past them. Three or four hundred yards 
farther and he lay down, laughing again to himself. It 
had been ridiculously easy. All his wild instincts were 
alive and leaping, and his senses became preternaturally 
acute. He heard some tiny animals of the cat tribe, 
alarmed by his presence, stealing away among the bushes, 
and the sound of an owl moving ever so slightly in the 
thick leaves on a bough came to his ears. But he was 
so still that the owl became still too, and did not know 
when he arose and moved on. 

Henry believed that the two warriors were merely 
guards on the outer rim and that soon he would en- 
counter more, a belief verified within ten minutes. Then 
he heard talking and saw Braxton Wyatt himself and 
three Shawnees, one a very large man who seemed to 
be second in command. Lying at his ease and in a good 
covert he watched them, laughing again and again to 
himself. For such as he this was, in truth, fine sport, 
and he enjoyed it to the utmost. Wyatt was looking 
toward the point where the cliffs that contained the 
rocky hollow showed dimly in the silver haze. His face 
expressed neither triumph nor confidence, and Henry, 
seeing that he was troubled, enjoyed it. 

"I wish we knew how well they are provided with 
food and ammunition,” he heard him say. 

“They will have plenty/’ the big warrior said. “The 
mighty young chief, Ware, will see to it.” 


35 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Henry felt a thrill at the words. The Shawnee was 
paying a tribute to him, and he could not keep from 
hearing it. 

“They beat us off before, 1 ” said Wyatt gloomily. “We 
had them trapped in the hollow, but we could not 
carry it.” 

“But this time,” said the warrior, “we will sit down 
before it, and wait until they come out, trembling with 
weakness and begging us to give them food that they 
may keep the life in their bodies.” 

“It will be a sight to make my eyes and heart rejoice,” 
said Braxton Wyatt. 

The hammer and trigger of Henry's rifle were a pow- 
erful magnet for his hand. The young renegade’s voice 
expressed so much revenge and malice, so much accumu- 
lated poison that the world would be a much better place 
without him. Then why not rid it of his presence? He 
stood there outlined sharp and clear in the silver dusk, 
and a marksman, such as Henry, could not miss. But his 
will restrained the eager fingers. It was not wise now, 
nor could he shoot even a renegade from ambush. Using 
the extremest caution, lest the moving of a leaf or a 
blade of grass betray his presence, he passed on, and 
now he was sure that he was well within the Indian 
ring. 

Advancing more rapidly he ascended the slope, and 
came to the hollow, which he reached while yet under 
cover. He waited a long time to see whether Wyatt 
had posted any sentinels within eyeshot or earshot, as 

36 


THE GREAT JOKE 


he had no desire to be trapped inside, and then, feeling 
sure that they were not near, he entered. 

Their home was undisturbed. The dead ashes of 
their last fire lay untouched. Various articles that they 
could not take with them were undisturbed on the rocky 
shelves. But he gave the interior only a few rapid and 
questing looks, and then he went outside again, his mind 
set on a dense clump of bushes that grew near the 
entrance. 

He buried himself in the heavy shade, but he did not 
seek it alone because of shelter. He saw that a good 
line of retreat led from it over the shoulder of the hill, 
and then down a slope that admitted good speed. Hav- 
ing made sure of his ground, he filled his lungs and sent 
forth the cry of the wolf, long and sinister and full of 
a power that carried far over the forest. He knew that 
the listening four would hear it, and he knew, too, that 
it would reach the ears of Braxton Wyatt and all the 
Shawnees. And hearing it, they would be absolutely 
sure that the five were now in the hollow where they 
might be held until they dropped dead of hunger or 
yielded themselves to the mercy of those who knew no 
mercy. 

Fierce, triumphant yells came from all the points of 
the circle about him, and once more and with deep con- 
tent Henry laughed. He would fool them, he would 
play with them, and meanwhile his comrades, to keep 
the sport going, might sting them on the flank. After 
the yells, the night resumed its usual silence, and Henry, 


37 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


lying in his covert, watched on all sides, while he laid 
his plans to vex and torment Braxton Wyatt and his 
band. He knew it was an easy matter for his comrades 
and himself to escape this particular expedition sent 
against them, but it was likely that they would encounter 
other and larger forces farther south, and he wished the 
battlefield, if it shifted at all, to shift northward. Hence 
he intended to hold Wyatt there as long as possible. 

After a while, he was sure that he saw the tops of some 
bushes moving in a direction not with the wind, and he 
was equally sure that Shawnees were coming forward. 
Nearly half an hour passed and then a bead of fire 
appeared as a rifle was discharged, and the shot had an 
uncommonly loud sound in the clear, noiseless night. He 
heard, too, the click of the bullet as it struck against the 
stone near the mouth of the hollow, and once more he 
laughed. It was an amusing night for him. The war- 
riors, now that they had crept within range, would be 
sure to sprinkle the stone around the cleft with bullets, 
and lead was too precious in the wilderness to be wasted. 

He flattened himself upon the earth, merely keeping 
his rifle thrust forward for an emergency, and he blended 
so perfectly with grass and foliage that not even the 
keen eyes of Shawnees ten feet away could have de- 
tected him. A second shot was fired, and he heard the 
bullet clipping leaves not far away ; a third followed and 
then a volley, all of the bullets striking at some point 
near the entrance. The volley was followed by a long 
and fierce war whoop and far down the valley Henry 

38 


THE GREAT JOKE 


caught sight of a dusky form. Quick as lightning he 
raised his rifle, pulled the trigger and the figure disap- 
peared. Then another war whoop, now expressing grief 
and rage, came, and he knew that the band would think 
the bullet had been sent from the mouth of the rock 
fortress. He crept a little farther away, lest a stalker 
should stumble upon him, and reloaded his rifle. 

He lay quite still a long time, and the first sound he 
heard was of slow and cautious footsteps. He listened 
to them attentively and he wondered. A warrior surely 
would not come walking in a manner that soon became 
shambling. Putting his ear to the earth he heard a soft 
and uncertain crush, crush, and then, raising his head 
a little, he traced a dark, ambiguous figure. But he 
knew it, nevertheless, by the two red eyes blinking in 
doubt and dismay. It was a black bear, doubtless the 
same one they had already disturbed. 

Here he was, like Henry himself, within the Shawnee 
ring, but, unlike him, not there of his own free will. 
The shots and the war whoops had terrified him to the 
utmost, and they had always driven him back toward the 
center of the circle. Henry, moved by a spirit that was 
as much friendliness as sport, uttered a low woof. The 
bear paused, raised his head a little higher, and inhaled 
the wind. At any other time he would have fled in dis- 
may from the human odor, but he was a harried and 
frightened black bear and that woof was the first 
friendly sound he had heard in a day. So he remained 
where he was, his figure crouched, his red eyes quivering 


39 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


with curiosity. Henry smiled to himself. His feeling 
for the animal was one of pure friendship, allied with 
sympathy. He knew that if the bear tried to plunge 
through the Indian ring in his panic they would cer- 
tainly kill him. Moreover, they would cook him and 
eat him the next day. The Indians liked fat young bear 
better than venison. 

It was a whimsical impulse of his generous nature to 
try to save the bear, and he edged around until the puz- 
zled animal was between him and the mouth of the cave. 
The bear once started to run to the west, but a rifle shot 
fired suddenly in that segment of the circle stopped him. 
He remained again undecided, his tongue lolling out and 
his red eyes full of dismay. Henry crept slowly toward 
him, uttering the low woof, woof, several times, and 
bruin, disturbed in his mind and unable to judge between 
friends and enemies, edged away as slowly, until his 
back was almost at the mouth of the hollow. Then, with 
all the possibilities against such a combination of chances, 
it occurred nevertheless. A louder woof than usual from 
him was followed almost instantly by a Shawnee rifle 
shot, and the frightened bear, giving back, almost fell 
into the crevice. Then whirling, and seeing a refuge 
before him, he darted inside. 

Henry, retreating into the dense bushes, flattened him- 
self in the grass, and laughed once more. He had 
laughed many times that night, but now his mirth had 
a fresh savor. The bear and not the Indians had be- 
come the new occupant of their old home, and, despite 

40 


THE GREAT JOKE 


the fact that it had been so recently a human habitation, 
he felt quite sure the animal, owing to his terror and 
the confusion of his ideas, would remain there until 
morning at least. The Shawnees would exert all their 
patience and skill in the siege of one bear that lived 
chiefly on roots, the greatest crime of which was to rob 
bees of their stored honey. 

He raised himself until he could see the mouth of the 
cave, but all was still and dark there. Evidently the 
bear was at home and was using all available comforts. 
He would not come out to face the terror of the shots 
and of human faces. Henry could imagine him with 
his head almost hidden in one of their beds of leaves, 
and gradually acquiring confidence because danger was 
no longer before his eyes. 

His whimsical little impulse having met with complete 
success he lay in his shroud of bushes and intense enjoy- 
ment thrilled through every vein. He had not known a 
happier night. All his primitive instincts were gratified. 
The hunted was having sport with the hunters, and it 
was rare sport too. 

The mournful howl of a wolf came faintly from the 
northern rim of the forest. It made Henry start and 
wonder a little. He thought at first the cry had been 
sent forth by Silent Tom or Shif’less Sol, but as it was 
inside the Indian circle he concluded it must have been 
made by one of the warriors. But he changed his mind 
again, when the long, whining cry was repeated. His 
hearing was not less acute than his sight, able to differ- 


4i 


THE EYES OF THF'WOODS 


entiate between the finest shades of sound, and he felt 
sure now that the howl of a wolf was made by a wolf 
itself, the real genuine article in howls, true to the wil- 
derness. When several more of the uneasy whines came 
dqubt was left no longer. The Indian ring that had 
enclosed the rocky hollow and the black bear had also 
enclosed an entire pack of wolves. It complicated the 
situation, but for Wyatt and his band, not for Henry, 
and once more the spontaneous laugh bubbled up from 
his throat. 

He inferred now that he had not seen all of the Indian 
force. There were probably other detachments to the 
west and north that had been drawn in to complete the 
ring, but he did not care how many they might be. The 
more they were the greater their troubles. A soft pad, 
pad in the thicket roused him to the keenest attention. 
Some larger animal was approaching him, unaware of 
his presence, the wind blowing in the wrong direction. 
But the wind came right for Henry and soon he dis- 
covered a strong feline odor. He knew that it was a 
panther, and presently he saw it in the moonlight, yel- 
lowish and monstrous, the hugest beast of its kind that 
he had ever beheld. 

But the panther, despite its size and strength, would 
run away from man, and Henry understood. The Indian 
ring had closed about it too, and, frightened, it was seek- 
ing refuge. Powerful, clawed and toothed for battle, 
it would not fight unless it was driven into a corner, 
and then it would fight with ferocity. Henry reflected 


42 


THE GREAT JOKE 


philosophically that the net might miss the particular 
fish for which it was cast and yet catch others. If the 
Indians closed in they had the panther and the black 
bear and perhaps the pack of wolves too. What would 
they do with them? His irrepressible mirth bubbled up. 
It was their problem, not his. 

Resolved not to intervene again in these delicate 
affairs, he crouched as closely as he could to the earth, 
wishing the panther neither to see nor to hear him, but 
curious himself to know what it would do. The beast 
stalked out into the open, and it was magnified greatly 
by the luminous quality of the moonlight. It looked 
like one of its primitive ancestors in the far dawn of 
time, when man fought for his life with the stone axe. 
But the panther was afraid. The howls of the wolf, 
both the real and the false, frightened him. His instinct 
too told him that he was walled around by beings that 
could slay at a distance, and, within a certain area, he 
was a prisoner. He was sorely troubled and his great 
body trembled with nervous quivers. The wolf pack 
howled again, and he must have found something more 
alarming than ever in it, as he sheered off to one side, 
and his tawny eyes caught a glimpse of a black opening 
that almost certainly led to a magnificent den and refuge. 

But the panther was cautious. He lived a life in 
which the foresight that comes from experience was 
compelled to play a great part. He did not dive directly 
for the cleft, and he might not have gone in at all, had 
not a sudden shift in the wind brought to him the 


43 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


human odor that came from the body lying so near in 
the bushes. Driven by his impulse he turned away and 
then sprang straight into the hollow. 

Henry had not expected this sudden movement on the 
part of the panther, and he rose to his knees to see what 
would happen. A terrible growling and snarling and 
the shuffling of heavy bodies came instantly from the 
dusky interior. A moment or two later the panther 
bounded out, a huge ball of yellowish fur, in which two 
frightened and angry red eyes glared. Henry saw sev- 
eral streaks of blood on him and he stared at the animal, 
amazed. He did not know that a black bear could make 
such a fight against a powerful feline brute, but evi- 
dently, wild with terror, he had used all his claws and 
teeth at once. The panther caught sight of Henry look- 
ing at him, and, uttering a scream or two, bounded into 
the bushes. In the cave, the bear remained silent and 
triumphant. 

“What will happen next?” said Henry to himself. 

The howl of the wolf pack came in reply. 


CHAPTER III 


A MERRY NIGHT 

T HE long whine, a mingling of ferocity, fear and 
perhaps of hunger too, came from a point nearer 
than before, and Henry was confirmed in his 
opinion that Wyatt's main band had been joined by other 
and smaller ones, thus enabling them to form a circle 
practically continuous, through which the wolves had not 
dared to break. The pack, moreover, was steadily being 
driven in toward the center of the circle which was 
naturally the rocky hollow. He foresaw further com- 
plications. 

Henry was very thoughtful. Affairs were not going 
as he had expected, and yet he was not disappointed. He 
had believed that he would have to show great activity 
himself, slipping here and there, and putting in a timely 
shot or two, but other factors had entered into the situa- 
tion, and, with his normal flexibility of mind, he resolved 
at once to put them to the best use. 

The wind was blowing from the pack toward him, and, 
if it shifted, he meant to shift with it, but meanwhile he 
made himself as inconspicuous as possible, finding a small 


45 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


depression in which he stretched his body, thus being hid- 
den from any eye except the keenest. Although the night 
was far advanced, it retained its quality of silky or lumin- 
ous brightness, the whole world still swimming in the sil- 
ver haze which the full moon and the countless stars cast. 

He wondered what had become of the scratched and 
angry panther. Endowed with strength, but only with a 
fitful courage, it too must be lying somewhere near in the 
forest, torn by wrath and perplexity. He was quite sure 
that like the wolves it was encircled by the Indian ring, 
and would not dare the attempt to break it. He was 
compelled to laugh once more to himself. It was, in 
truth, a merry night. 

But as the laugh died in his throat his whole body gave 
a nervous quiver. A cry came from a point not ten yards 
distant, a long, melancholy, quavering sound, not with- 
out a hint of ferocity, in fact the complaining voice of an 
owl. The imitation of the owl was a favorite signal with 
the forest runners, both white and red, but Henry knew 
at once that this cry was real. Looking long and thor- 
oughly, he saw at last the feathered and huddled shape 
on the bough of an oak. It was a huge owl, and the rays 
of the moon struck it at such an angle that they made it 
look ghostly and unsubstantial. Had Henry been super- 
stitious, had he been steeped too much in Indian lore, he 
would have called it a phantom owl. Nay, it looked, in 
very truth, like such a phantom, taking the shape of an 
owl, and, despite all his mind and courage, a little shud- 
der ran through him. 


46 


A MERRY NIGHT 


'Again the great owl cried his loneliness and sorrows to 
the night. It was a tremendous note, mournful, uncanny 
and ferocious, and it seemed to Henry that it must go 
miles through the clear air, until it came back in a dying 
echo, more sinister than its full strength had been. The 
Indian cast was bringing into the net more than Wyatt 
or any of the warriors had anticipated, but the owl at 
least was hooting its defiance. 

The singular combination of the night and circum- 
stance affected Henry’s own spirit. He was touched less 
by the present and reality than by his sense of another 
time and the primordial elements became strong within 
him. In effect he was transported far back into those 
dim ages, when man fought with the stone axe, and his 
five senses were so preternaturally acute to protect his 
life that he had a sixth and perhaps a seventh. A whiff 
came on the wind. It was faint, because it had traveled 
far, but he knew it to be the odor of the panther. The 
big cowardly beast was crouched in a little valley to his 
right, and he was trembling, trembling at the approach- 
ing warriors, trembling at the great youth who lay in the 
depression, trembling at the unknown and monstrous 
creature that had plunged its iron claws into him in the 
dark, and trembling at the cry of the owl which it had 
heard so often before, but which struck now with a new 
terror upon its small and frightened brain. 

Henry’s own feeling of the supernatural passed. It 
was merely the old, old world in which he must fight for 
his life and turn aside the bands from his comrades and 


47 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


himself. Although the warriors had not called again to 
one another he divined that they were closing in, and he 
thought rapidly and with all the intensity and clearness 
demanded by the situation. 

The owl hooted once more, the tremendous note swell- 
ing far over the wilderness, and then returning in its mel- 
ancholy whine. Instantly setting his lips and swelling all 
the muscles of his mighty throat he gave back the cry, 
long, full and a match in its loneliness and ferocity for the 
owl’s own call. Then he crouched so close that he seemed 
fairly to press himself into the earth. 

He saw the owl on the bough move a little and he knew 
that it was in a state of stupid amazement. Like the 
panther its brain was adapted only to its own affairs and 
environment, else it would have made some progress in 
all the ages, and the cry of an owl coming from the 
ground when owls usually cried from trees was more 
than it could understand. Nevertheless it soon gave forth 
its long complaining note once more, and Henry promptly 
matched it. He was thinking not so much of its effect 
upon the owl as upon the Indians. Delicate as their 
senses were, they were not as delicate as his, and they 
might think the two notes were those of challenge indi- 
cating that the whole five, reinforced perhaps by a half 
dozen stalwart hunters, were within the ring, ready and 
eager to give battle, setting in very truth a trap of their 
own. 

He heard presently the cry of a wolf from a point at 
least a half mile away, and it was answered from an- 

48 


A MERRY NIGHT 


other segment of the circle at an equal distance. The 
sounds, as he easily discerned, were made by warriors, 
and it was absolutely certain now that the voices of the 
owls had caused them to pause and think. Having thus 
started this train he felt that he could wait and see what 
would happen, but he was stirred by curiosity, and he 
pulled himself forward until the thicket ended, and the 
earth fell away into the deep ravine that ran before the 
stony hollow. 

He kept himself hidden in the edge of the dense 
bushes, but he could see in various directions. The great 
owl on the bough was quivering a little, as if it were still 
amazed and terrified by the answer to its own calls, com- 
ing from the heart of the earth itself and surcharged with 
mystery. The moonlight turned it to a feathery mass of 
silver in which the cruel beak and claws showed like 
sharp pieces of steel. Yet the bird did not fly away, and 
Henry knew that it was held by fear as well as curiosity, 
the dangers near seeming less than those far. 

He looked then down into the ravine, and he was 
startled by the sight of the wolf pack at full attention. 
The wolves of the Mississippi Valley were not as large 
as the great timber wolf of the mountains, but when 
driven by hunger they showed like their brethren else- 
where extreme ferocity, and were known to devour 
human beings. Now the wolves like the owl were mag- 
nified in the luminous moonlight, and one at their head 
seemed to be truly of gigantic size. He reminded Henry 
of the king wolf that had pursued Shif’less Sol and him- 


49 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


self, and he had a singular fancy that he was the same 
great brute, reincarnated. He shivered at his own 
thought, and then chided himself fiercely. The king wolf 
had been killed, he was as dead as a stone, and he could 
not come back to earth to plague him. 

But the beast, like the bird, was truly monstrous. He 
stood upon a slight mound at the bottom of the ravine, 
and his figure bathed in the glow of the moon and the 
stars rose to twice its real height. Henry saw the foam 
upon the red mouth, the white fangs and the savage eyes, 
in which, his fancy still vivid, he read hunger, ferocity 
and terror too. Around him but on the lower plane were 
gathered the full score of the pack, gaunt and fierce. Sud- 
denly, the leader raised his head and like a dog bayed 
the moon. The score took up the cry and the long whine 
was carried far on the light wind, to be followed by deep 
silence. 

The voice of the wolf bore Henry even farther back 
than the voice of the owl, and his preternaturally acute 
senses took on an edge which the modern man never 
knows in his civilized state. He heard the fluff of the 
owl’s feathers as it moved and the panting of the wolves 
in the valley below. Then he saw the leader walk from 
the low mound and take a slow and deliberate course 
along the slope, with the others following in single file 
like Indians. The king was leading them nearer to the 
rocky hollow, and Henry suspected they were changing 
their position because the ring of warriors was beginning 
to close in again. He heard a flapping of wings, and a 


50 


A MERRY NIGHT 


huge bald-headed eagle settled on a bough near him, 
whence it looked with red eyes at the owl, while the owl, 
with eyes equally red, looked back again. 

The suspicious, not to say jealous, manner with which 
the two birds regarded each other, when the forest was 
wide enough for both, and countless millions more like 
them, amused Henry. Both were alarmed, and it was 
easy enough for them to fly away, but they did not do so, 
drawn in a kind of fascination toward the danger they 
feared. Meanwhile the wolves were still coming up the 
slope, but the black bear in the snug hollow never stirred. 

The warriors signaled once more to one another and 
now they were much nearer. Henry retreated a little 
farther into the thicket, and then his plan came to him. 
The Indians were bound to approach him from the east 
and he would meet them with a weapon they little ex- 
pected. The forest was still in dense green, but the wood 
was dry from summer heats, the effect of the great rain 
having passed quickly, and the ground was littered as 
usual with the dead boughs and trunks fallen through 
arboreal ages. 

He drew softly away toward the mouth of the hollow, 
and then passed behind it, where, stooping in the thicket, 
he produced his flint and steel, which he put upon the 
turf beside him. Then, he gathered together a little pile 
of dry brushwood, and again took notice of the wind, 
which was still blowing directly toward the east and down 
the ravine, the only point from which the Indian attack 
could come. It had been repulsed there once before, but 


51 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


then Henry’s comrades were with him, and five good 
rifles and the tremendous voice of Long Jim had pre- 
vailed. Now he was alone, and he did not intend to rely 
upon bullets. The moonlight held, clear and amazingly 
bright, and he distinctly saw the troubled owl and the 
vexed eagle, apparently still staring at each other and 
wondering what was the matter with the night and the 
place. The Indian calls to one another sounded once 
more, their own natural voices now and not the imitation 
of bird or animal, and their nearness indicated that the 
circle was closing in fast. 

Henry had built up his heap of tinder wood, somewhat 
behind the mouth of the hollow, and, kneeling down, he 
used flint and steel with amazing rapidity and power. The 
sparks leaped forth in a shower, the dry wood ignited, 
and up came little flames which swiftly grew into bigger 
ones. Then he fanned his bonfire with all his might, 
and the flames sprang high in the air, roaring as they 
set a fresh blaze to every dry thing they touched. In 
less than two minutes a forest fire was in full and great 
progress, sweeping eastward and down the ravine directly 
into the faces of Braxton Wyatt and his advancing war- 
riors. A great sheet of fire in varying reds, pinks and 
yellows, and sometimes with a blue tint, rose above the 
tops of the trees, and, as it rushed forward, it sent forth 
showers of ashes and sparks in myriads from its crim- 
son throat 

Henry sprang up behind the fire and uttered terrific 
shouts, leaping and dancing as that far dim ancestor of 


52 


'A 1 MERRY NIGHT 


his must have leaped and danced when he was glowing 
with a sudden and mighty triumph. The spirit of the 
ages had descended upon him too and as he bounded back 
and forth in the light of the flames he roared forth bitter 
taunts in a voice worthy of Long Jim himself. He told 
the owl to be up and away, and, rising on heavy wings 
and uttering a dismal hoot, it obeyed. Its big body was 
outlined for a moment or two against the red, and then 
it flew away over the forest. The eagle uttered a hoarse 
cry, drawn from its frightened throat, and followed the 
owl. 

Then came another shriek, singularly like that of a 
human being, and the huge panther, driven from its 
covert by the intense heat, leaped madly forth and raced 
down the ravine before the pillar of flame. That panther 
was in a sorely troubled state even before the fire began, 
and now the collapse of its small intellect was complete. 
It saw the advancing Indian warriors, but, in its madness, 
was reckless of them. It advanced with great bounds 
straight at the line, cannoned against Braxton Wyatt him- 
self, knocking him senseless into a thicket, and, magni- 
fied to twice its usual size before the amazed eyes of the 
Indians, disappeared at last in a yellowish streak down 
the ravine. 

Terror tore at the hearts of the Indians themselves, 
brave warriors though they were. The strange cries of 
the night, of such varying character and coming from so 
many points, had depressed their spirits and filled them 
with superstitious awe. There was more in this than the 


53 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


human mind could account for and the sudden upspring- 
ing of the fire, bringing on its front the monstrous pan- 
ther, if, in truth, it was a panther and not some huge and 
legendary beast, sent them to the verge of panic. 

Their white leader, who might have restored their 
courage, lay senseless in the bush, and as the second in 
command, the big warrior, seized him to drag him away 
from the fire, the wall of flame emitted something even 
more terrifying than the magnificent figure of the mad 
panther. Out of the red glare shot a huge gaunt figure 
with long white teeth and slavering jaws, the king wolf, 
to the warriors the demon wolf. After him came a full 
score or more of wolves, almost as large, and howling 
their terror to the moon. Behind them was the gigantic 
figure of a phantom black bear, rushing with all its might, 
and through the red wall itself came the sound of threat- 
ening and awful cries. 

The Shawnees could stand no more. Uttering yells of 
fright they fled, and fortunate it was for Braxton Wyatt 
that the big warrior slung him over his shoulder and car- 
ried him away in the crush. 

Henry heard the cries of the warriors and he knew 
from their nature that panic was in complete control of 
the band. All things had worked for him. The bear in 
its fright, and as he had expected, had rushed from the 
cave just in time to flee before the flames, and he knew 
very well that his own shouts would be interpreted by 
the Indians as the menace of the evil spirits. 

He followed the flames about a mile down the ravine, 


54 


K MERRY NIGHT 


and then returned slowly toward the hollow. He knew 
that the fire would soon reach a prairie somewhat farther 
on, where it would probably die out, but he knew also 
that his triumph was achieved. Circumstances and the 
presence of the animals and the birds had helped him 
greatly, but his own quick wit and infinity of resource had 
put the capstone on success. He began to feel now the 
effect of the immense exertions he had made with both 
body and mind, and, before he reached the hollow, he 
turned aside into the woods where the fire had not passed 
and sat down on a rock. 

He saw two or three miles away the wall of flame still 
moving eastward, but the distance even did not keep him 
from knowing that it had diminished greatly in height 
and vigor. As he had surmised, it would die presently 
at the prairie and the night would return to its wonted 
silence, lighted now only by the moon and stars. He was 
weary, but he had an immense feeling of satisfaction and 
he sat a while, looking at the fire, which soon sank out 
of sight behind the horizon, although its pathway, the 
broad swath that it had cut, still glowed with coals and 
sparks. 

He wondered just where his comrades were. He might 
have sent forth a call for them, but he decided that it 
would be wiser not to do so at present, since they could 
reunite easily in the morning, and he remained, sitting 
in an easy position, still looking at the luminous point 
under the horizon, where the last embers of the fire were 
fading. A long time passed, and the stillness was so 


55 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


peaceful that he sank into a doze, from which he was 
aroused by a flare of lightning in the west. The beauty 
of the night had been too intense to last. The moon and 
stars that he had admired so much were going away, and 
the silky blue robe, shot with silver that was the sky, 
was dimmed by a long row of somber clouds trailing up 
from the west. The wind that touched Henry’s face 
was damp and he knew rain would soon come. 

He had no mind to have a wetting through and 
through after his great strain and labors, and his thoughts 
turned at once to the rocky hollow. The bear had rushed 
out of it madly and there must have been much heat 
there for awhile, but it had probably cooled by this time, 
and would afford him a good shelter. 

He found to his great delight and relief that the in- 
terior was free from smoke, and not damaged at all. 
Some articles they had left on the shelves were not even 
charred, and the leaves that made their beds had escaped 
ignition. He would not have asked for anything better, 
and, after eating some venison from his knapsack and 
drinking from the cold water of the rivulet, he lay down 
on the bed nearest the cleft, where he could see the ravine 
and the forest beyond. 

A storm was gathering, but secure in his shelter it 
soothed and lulled his spirit. The lightning, now red and 
intense, flared from every horizon, and the wilderness 
was filled with the deep roll of incessant thunder. The 
wind ceased to blow, but he knew that soon it would 
spring up again, and then the rain would come with it, 

56 


A MERRY NIGHT 


although he would remain dry and warm in the stony 
shelter that nature had provided. An enormous sense 
of comfort, even luxury, pervaded him, both body and 
mind. He was like his primordial ancestor who had 
escaped from the dangers of the monstrous beasts and 
who now rested at ease in his cave. The strain upon his 
nerves departed, and soon he felt fit and able to meet any 
new danger, whenever it should come. But he was so 
sure that no such danger would appear that he allowed 
himself to fall asleep, having first covered his body with 
the blanket that he always carried at his back, as the 
night, under the influence of the wind and rain, was grow- 
ing cold. 

When he awoke the day had not yet come and it was 
very dark. The rain was pouring heavily, but not a drop 
reached him where he lay on his easy bed of leaves with 
the warm blanket drawn around his body. Without ris- 
ing he pulled himself forward a little and looked forth. 
The last ember from the forest fire had been blotted out 
long since, and he heard the wash of the water as it 
rushed down the slopes, and the sweep of the torrent in 
the ravine. The contrast heightened the splendor of his 
own situation, which was all that one who was wild for 
the time could ask. He thought of his comrades and of 
what a home the hollow would be to them too, but he was 
not troubled about them. Such forest runners as Shif’less 
Sol and the others would be sure to find protection from 
the storm. 

He fell asleep again, and, when he awoke the second 

c 

57 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


time, dawn had come more than an hour, the rain had 
stopped and the heavens were burnished silver. Foliage 
and grass were already drying fast under a warm western 
wind, and Henry, making a breakfast off what was left 
of his venison, prepared to go forth. But he was halted 
by a shambling, dark figure that appeared on the slope 
leading down into the ravine. It was the black bear, and 
apparently it had some idea of returning to the fine shel- 
ter it had abandoned in such fright the night before. 
Henry was surprised that it should have come back. It 
must have been beaten about much in the storm, and, 
either its memory was short, or it had sunk its terrors 
in the recollection of the finest den that ever a bear had 
entered in the northern part of Kain-tuck-ee. 

Henry had a friendly feeling for the bear, which he 
regarded as an animal of a companionable disposition, 
and no enemy, unless driven in a corner. Since he had 
to leave the hollow and his comrades would have to go 
with him he preferred on the whole that the bear should 
have it, but when he stood up in the entrance the animal 
caught sight of his tall figure and scrambled away in the 
forest. His place was taken by the figure of a huge cat 
which glared at Henry with yellowish-green eyes, and 
then turned back among the trees, filled with rage that 
the terrible, strange creature was yet there. 

“It seems that I’m still an object of terror/’ thought 
Henry, with amusement. “Now for the eagle and the 
owl.” 

A great bird came out of the blue, and sailed on slow 


A MERRY NIGHT 


wing over the hollow and ravine. He knew instinctively 
that it was the bald eagle of the night before, drawn back 
with a fascination it could not resist to the place where 
it had been frightened so badly. But it did not alight. 
Keeping at a good height, it circled about and about and 
then disappeared again and for the last time to the east- 
ward. 

Henry’s eyes searched the opposite slope of the ravine, 
and at last he discovered a mournful figure perched on 
the high bough of an oak. Its feathers were drooping, 
its head was bent down until it was almost buried in the 
feathers below its neck, and its entire attitude showed 
despondency. The owl, too, had come back, but only a 
part of the way, and, blinded by the sun, it sat there on 
the bough, mourning and mourning. 

Henry laughed. He had laughed many times the night 
before and he could not keep from laughing that morn- 
ing. The owl was quite the saddest spectacle the woods 
could afford, and he had no mind to disturb it. 

“Stay there and grieve, my solemn friend,” he said. 
“Truly, with the sun on you, your eyes closed and your 
heart sunk you’ll be silent, but tonight you’ll give forth 
your melancholy hoot, although I won’t be here to hear it.” 

He looked to his ammunition, and stepped forth into a 
new and refreshed world, filled with cool drying airs and 
the appealing odor of leaf and grass. He descended into 
the ravine, the water falling in beads from the leaves as 
he brushed by, and followed for a little distance in the 
bare trail left by the fire. A mile farther on and a pair 


59 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of great red eyes peering at him from a thicket saw in him 
a terrible beast that even the master of the wolves should 
avoid. 

The huge leader gave a yelp, and as Henry turned sud- 
denly, he saw the great wolf flitting away up the ravine, 
followed by the twenty gaunt figures of his pack. He 
could have dropped the big wolf with a bullet, but there 
was no need to do so, and he merely watched them until 
they disappeared in the forest, concluding that his com- 
panions of the night were as much afraid of him in the 
day as in the dark. All of them, save one band, had come 
back in a frightened way, but he knew that the Indians 
would not return. He was sure that they were still on 
their terrified flight toward the Ohio, and he followed in 
the path of the fire, until he came to the prairie where it 
had burned itself out. 

It was only a little prairie, about two miles across, no 
other kind having been found in Kentucky, and, on the 
far side, he picked up the trail of the Indian band. He 
did not see any footsteps that turned out, and he wondered 
at their absence. What had become of Braxton Wyatt? 
His body had not been found in the path of the flames, 
and certainly he had not perished. Henry, after some 
thought, came to the right conclusion, namely, that he 
was being carried. But his hurt could not be any wound 
received in battle, and probably he would recover soon, 
another correct surmise, as a short distance farther on 
the trail of toes that turned out appeared. 

All the steps seemed to be long, and Henry judged 

60 


A MERRY NIGHT 


hence that the band was going fast, terror still stabbing 
at their hearts, long after the night had passed. Braxton 
Wyatt would be the first to recover from it, and Henry 
smiled at the thought of his rage when he should not be 
able to persuade the Shawnees that evil spirits, sent by 
Manitou, had not driven them from the valley. Their 
second defeat at the same place, and this time by invisible 
forces, would persuade them they must never return to 
the attack on the hollow. 

Henry dropped the pursuit for the present, knowing 
that it was time to reunite his own forces, and he sent 
forth the cry of the wolf that the five, in common with 
the Indians, used so much. No reply and he repeated it a 
second and yet a third time before the answer came. 
Then it was in the south and it was very faint, but he had 
no doubt it was the voice of Shifless Sol. Call and reply 
went on for a little while, and then, after a long wait, he 
saw the figures of the four appearing among the trees, 
the shiftless one leading. 

The greeting was not effusive, but joyful. Henry told 
them in rapid words, tense and brief, all that had occurred 
the night before, and the shoulders of the four shook with 
silent laughter. 

“You certainly scared them good, Henry,” said Paul. 

“I was helped a lot by circumstances.” 

“But you used the chances when they came.” 

“Where did you four hide when the storm broke ?” 

“We took refuge under the matted trees and boughs of 
a huge old windrow. It wasn’t like the hollow, and some 

61 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


water came through, but on the whole we did fairly well, 
and soon dried out thoroughly this morning. We were 
mighty glad to hear your call, but we hardly hoped you 
would achieve as much as you did/’ 

“An’ havin’ routed the first band that came ag’inst us,” 
said Long Jim, “what do you ’low we ought to do next ?” 

“We’ve broken only a piece of the iron ring they’re 
forging about us, and they’ll soon mend that piece. It’s 
a good thing to hit first at those you see are trying to hit 
at you, and so I think we ought to follow up the success 
fortune has given us.” 

“An’ it ’pears we kin do that best by keepin’ right on 
the trail o’ Braxton Wyatt an’ his band,” said Shif’less 
Sol. 

“That’s the way I see it,” said Henry. “How do you 
feel about it, Tom?” 

“Right plan,” replied Ross. 

Shif’less Sol fixed upon him such a look of stern re- 
proof that Silent Tom reddened once more under his tan. 

“Here you go gettin’ volyble ag’in,” said the shiftless 
one. “You used two words then, Tom Ross, when, ef 
you’d thought an’ hunted ’roun’ a leetle you might hev 
found one that would hev done ez well.” 

“And you Paul?” said Harry. 

“I’m glad to follow where you lead.” 

“And you, Jim?” 

“I’m uv Paul’s mind.” 

“Then it’s settled. Now, we’ll have something to eat 
and talk it over.” 


62 


A MERRY NIGHT 


They soon found a little valley in which a clear rivulet 
was flowing. One was never more than a mile from run- 
ning water in that country — and Long Jim and Silent Tom 
produced food from their deerskin pouches. 

“Here’s some ven’son,” said Jim. “It’s cold an’ it’s 
tough, but I reckon it’ll do.” 

“I’m thinkin’,” said Shif’less Sol, “that after a night 
like the one Henry has had he’ll be pow’ful hungry fur 
somethin’ better than cold ven’son.” 

“Mebbe so,” rejoined Long Jim, “an’ mebbe it’s true 
uv all uv us, but whar are we goin’ to git it ?” 

“I’m an eddycated man, Jim Hart, eddycated in the 
ways o’ the woods, an’ one o’ the fust things you do when 
you’re gittin’ that sort o’ an eddication is to learn to use 
your eyes. I hev used mine, an’ jest before we set down 
here I noticed the fresh trail o’ buffler runnin’ off to the 
right, ’bout a dozen, I’d say, an’ jest ez shore ez I’m 
here they’re not more’n a mile away. I kin see ’em now, 
grazin’ in a little open, an’ thar is a young cow among 
’em, juicy an’ tender. Now I don’t want to kill a young 
cow buffler, but we must hev supplies before we go on 
this expedition.” 

“Sol is right,” said Henry, “and since he is so it’s his 
duty to go and kill the buffalo. Tom, you’ll go with him, 
won’t you?” 

“O’ course,” replied Silent Tom. 

Shif’less Sol rose and looked to his rifle. 

“I knowed I would hev to do all the work, besides sup- 
plyin’ the thinkin’,” he said. “Here I tell what’s to be 

63 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


done when the others ain’t able to think it out, an’ then 
they tell me to go an’ do it. It ain’t fair to a lazy man, 
one who furnishes the intelleck. The rest o’ you ought 
to work fur him.” 

“Go on you, Sol Hyde,” said Long Jim Hart, rebuk- 
ingly, “an’ kill that buffler. Don’t you know that when 
you kill it I’ll hev to cook it, an’ I ain’t complainin’ ?” 

“Quit braggin’ on yourse’f, Jim Hart. You ain’t com- 
plainin’, ’cause you ain’t got sense ’nuff to complain. 
You’re plum’ sunk so deep in sloth an’ ig’rance that you’re 
jest satisfied with anythin’, no matter how bad it is. It’s 
men o’ intelleck like me who complain and look fur better 
things, who make the world go forward.” 

“Your idea uv goin’ forward, Sol Hyde, is to do it ridin’ 
on my shoulders.” 

“O’ course, Jim. Ain’t that what you’re made fur? 
You’re a hind — ain’t that the beast, Paul, that carries bur- 
dens ? — an’ I’m the knight with the shinin’ lance that goes 
forth to slay dragons, an’ I go ridinV too.” 

“You go ridin’, too! I don’t see no hoss! An’ you 
ain’t been astride no hoss in years, Sol Hyde !” 

“You deserve to be what you are, a hind, a toter o’ 
burdens, Jim Hart, ’cause your mind is so slow an’ dull. 
You ain’t got no light, no imagination, no bloom, a-tall, 
a-tall! Did I say I wuz ridin’ a real hoss? No, sir, not 
fur a second ! But in the fancy, in the sperrit, so to speak, 
I’m ridin’ the finest hoss that ever pranced, an’ I’m set- 
tin’ in a silver saddle, holdin’ reins o’ blue silk, an’ that 
proud hoss o’ mine champs an’ champs his jaws on a bit 

64 


A MERRY NIGHT 


made o’ solid gold. Come on, Tom, I ain’t ’predated here. 
We’ll kill that buffler, ef you don’t talk me to death on 
the way. Remember now to hold your volyble tongue. 
The last time you spoke, ez I told you, you used two 
words when one would hev done jest ez well. Don’t let 
your gabblin’ skeer the buffler plum’ to the other side o’ 
the Ohio.” 

He stalked haughtily away, his rifle in the hollow of his 
arm, and Silent Tom followed meekly. The admiring 
gaze of Jim Hart followed the shiftless one as long as he 
was in sight. 

“Ain’t he the most beautiful talker you ever heard?” he 
asked. “Me an’ him hev our little spats, but it’s a re’l 
pleasure to hear him fetch out reasons an’ prove that the 
thing that ain’t is, an’ the thing that is ain’t. That’s what 
I call a mighty smart man. Ef the Injuns ever git him 
he’ll talk to ’em so hard that they’ll either make him thar 
head chief, or turn him loose to keep from bein’ talked 
to death.” 

They heard the sound of a shot, and then a faint halloo 
from the shiftless one, and when Henry went to the 
spot he found that he had slain a young cow buffalo, just 
as he had predicted. Long Jim Hart cooked the tender 
steaks in his finest style and they spent the rest of the 
day preparing for the journey, which they believed would 
take them across the Ohio, and which they knew would 
be full of dangers. 

They put out their fire and rested until dusk came. 
Then they took up again the trail of Wyatt’s band and 

65 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


traveled until midnight, when they slept until morning, 
all save the watch. Henry reckoned that they would 
reach the river by the next night, and there was a chance 
that the warriors might recover sufficiently from their 
fright to rally at the stream. But he felt that in any event 
he and his comrades must strike. Blackstaffe, Yellow 
Panther and Red Eagle with their forces would soon be 
in pursuit, and to escape the net would test the skill 
and courage of the five to the utmost. Yet all of them 
believed attack to be the best plan, and, after their sleep, 
they resumed the trail with renewed strength and vigor, 
pressing northward at great speed through the deep green 
wilderness. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 

A S the five advanced they read the trail with unfail- 
ing eye. Henry saw more than once the traces 
of footsteps with the toes turned out, that is those 
of Braxton Wyatt, and he noticed that they were waver- 
ing, not leading in a straight line like those of the 
Indians. 

“Braxton must have had a nice crack of some kind or 
other on the head,” he said, “and he still feels the effects 
of it, as now and then he reels.” 

“ ’Twould hev been a good thing,” said Shif less Sol, 
“ef the crack, whatever it may hev been, hed been a lot 
harder, hard enough to finish him. I ain’t bloodthirsty, 
but it would help a lot if Braxton Wyatt wuz laid away. 
Paul, you’re eddicated, an’ you hev done a heap o’ 
thinkin’, enough, I guess, to last a feller like Long Jim 
¥ur a half dozen o’ lives, now what makes a man turn 
renegade an’ fight with strangers an’ savages ag’inst his 
own people?” 

“I think,” replied Paul, “that it’s disappointment, and 
fancied grievances. Some people want to be first, and 

67 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


when they can’t win the place they’re apt to say the 
world is against ’em, in a conspiracy, so to speak, to 
defraud ’em of what they consider their rights. Then 
their whole system gets poisoned through and through, 
and they’re no longer reasoning human beings. I look 
upon Braxton Wyatt as in a way a madman, one poi- 
soned permanently.” 

“I hev noticed them things, too,” said Shif’less Sol. 
“Thar are diff’unt kinds o’ naturs, the good an’ the bad, 
an’ the bad can’t bear for other people to lead ’em. Then 
they jest natchelly hate an’ hate. All through the day 
they hate, an’ ef they ain’t got nothin’ to do, even ef the 
weather is fine ’nuff to make an old man laugh, they 
jest spend that time hatin’. An’ ef they happen to wake 
up at night, do they lay thar an’ think what a fine world 
it is an’ what nice people thar are in it? No, sir, they 
jest spend all the time between naps hatin’, an’ they 
fall asleep ag’in, with a hate on thar lips an in’ thar 
hearts.” 

“You’re talkin’ re’l po’try an’ truth at the same time, 
Sol,” said Long Jim. “It’s cur’us how people hate them 
that kin do things better than theirselves. Now, I’ve no- 
ticed when I’m cookin’ buffler steaks an’ deer meat an’ 
wild turkey an’ nice, juicy fish, an’ cookin’ mebbe bet- 
ter than anybody else in all Ameriky kin, how you, 
Shif’less Sol Hyde, turn plum’ green with envy an’ be- 
gin makin’ disrespeckful remarks ’bout me, Jim Hart, 
who hez too lofty an’ noble a natur ever to try to pull 
you down, poor an’ ornery scrub that you be.” 

68 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


Shif’less Sol drew himself up with haughty dignity. 

“Jim PIart, ,, he said, “Vm wrapped ’bout with the 
mantle o’ my own merit so well from head to foot that 
them invig’ous remarks o’ yours bounce right off me like 
hail off solid granite. To tell you the truth, Jim Hart, I 
feel like a big stone mountain, three miles high, with you 
throwin’ harmless leetle pebbles at me.” 

“And yet,” said Paul, “while you two are always pre- 
tending to quarrel, each would be eager to risk death for 
the other if need be.” 

“It’s only my sense o’ duty, an’ o’ what you call pro- 
portion,” said Shif’less Sol. “Long Jim, ez you know, is 
six feet an’ a half tall. Ef the Injuns wuz to take him 
an’ burn him at the stake he’d burn a heap longer than 
the av’rage man. What a torch Jim would make ! Know- 
in’ that an’ always b’arin’ it in mind, I’m jest boun’ to 
save Jim from sech a fate. It ain’t Jim speshully that 
I’m thinkin’ on, but I’d hate to know that a man six an’ 
a half feet long wuz burnin’ ’long his whole len’th.” 

“Another band has joined Wyatt,” said Henry. “See, 
here comes the trail !” 

The new force had arrived from the east, and it con- 
tained apparently twenty warriors, raising Braxton 
Wyatt’s little army to about sixty men. 

“But they still run,” said Shif’less Sol. “The new 
ones hev ketched all the terror an’ superstition that the 
old ones feel, an’ the whole crowd is off fur the Ohio. 
Look how the trail widens !” 

“And Braxton Wyatt is beginning to feel better,” said 

69 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Henry. “His own particular trail does not waver so 
much now. Ah, they’ve stopped here for a council. 
Braxton probably stood on that old fallen log and ad- 
dressed them, because the traces of his footsteps lead 
directly to it. Yes, the bark here is rubbed a little, 
where he stood. They gathered in a half circle before 
him, as their footprints show very plainly, and they 
listened to him respectfully. He, being white, was re- 
covering from the superstitious terror, but the Shawnees 
were still under its spell. After hearing him they con- 
tinued their flight. Here goes their trail, all in a bunch, 
straight toward the north !” 

“An’ thar won’t be no stop ’til they strike the Ohio/' 
said Shi f ’less Sol with conviction. 

“I agree with you,” said Henry. 

“And so do all of us,” said Paul. 

“And of course we follow on,” said Henry, “right to 
the water’s edge !” 

“We do,” said the others all together. 

“The Ohio isn’t very far now,” said Henry. 

“Ten or fifteen miles, p’raps,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“And it’s likely that we’ll find a big force gathered 
there.” 

“Looks that way to me, Henry. Mebbe the band o' 
Blackstaffe will be waitin’ to join that o’ Wyatt. Then, 
feelin’ mighty strong, they’ll come back after us.” 

“ ’Less we fill ’em full o’ fear whar they stan’. Mebbe 
they’ll stop at the river a day or two, an’ then we kin 
git to work. Water which hides will help us.” 


70 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


They passed' on through the forest, noting that the 
trail was growing wide and leisurely. At one point the 
Indians had stopped some time, and had eaten heavily 
of game brought in by the hunters. The bones of buf- 
falo, deer and wild turkey were scattered all about. 

“They’re feeling better,” said Henry. “I don’t think 
now they’ll cross the Ohio, but we must do so and at- 
tack from the other side. They’re not looking for any 
enemy in the north, and we may be able to terrify ’em 
again.” 

It was not long before they came to the great yellow 
stream of the Ohio, and in an open space, not far from 
the shore, they saw the fires of the Indian encampment. 

“I think we’ll have work to do here,” said Henry, 
“and we’ll keep well into the deep woods until long after 
dark.” 

They did not light any fire, but lying close in the 
thicket, ate their supper of cold food. Three or four 
hours after sunset Henry, telling the others to await his 
return, crept near the Indian camp. As he had sur- 
mised, two formidable forces had joined, and nearly 
two hundred warriors sat around the fires. The new 
army, composed partly of Miamis and partly of Shaw- 
nees, with a small sprinkling of Wyandots, was led by 
Blackstaffe, who was now with Wyatt, the two talking 
together earnestly and looking now and then toward the 
south. 

Henry had no doubt that the five were the subject 
of their conversation. Wyatt must have recovered by 


7 1 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


this time all his faculties and was telling Blackstaffe 
that their enemies were only mortal and could be taken, 
if the steel ring about them was recast promptly. Henry 
had no doubt that an attempt to forge it anew would 
speedily be made by the increased force, but his heart 
leaped at the thought that his comrades and he would 
be able to break it again. 

As he crept a little nearer he saw to his surprise a 
fire blazing on the opposite shore, and he was able to 
discover the forms of warriors between him and the 
blaze. With the Indians bestride the stream the task 
of the five was complicated somewhat, but Henry was of 
the kind that meet fresh obstacles with fresh energy. 

He returned to his comrades and reported what he 
had seen, but all agreed with him that they should cross 
the river, despite the encampment on the far shore, and 
make the attack from the north. 

“We’ll do like that old Roman, Hannybul,” said Long 
Jim, “hit the enemy at his weakest part, an’ jest when 
he ain’t expectin’ us.” 

“Hannibal was not a Roman, Jim,” said Paul. 

“Well, then, he was a Rooshian or a Prooshian.” 

“Nor was he either of those.” 

“Well, it don’t make no dif’unce, nohow. He wuz a 
furriner, that’s shore, an’ he’s dead, both uv which things 
is ag’inst him. It looks strange to me, Paul, that a fur- 
riner with the outlandish ways that furriners always hev 
should hev been sech a good gen’ral.” 

“He was probably the best the world has produced, 


72 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


Jim. He was able with small forces to defeat larger 
ones, and we must imitate his example.” 

“And to do that,” said Henry, “we shall cross the 
Ohio tonight. I think we’d better drop down a mile or 
two, beyond their fires and their sentinels, and then 
make for the northern shore.” 

“The river must be ’bout a mile wide here,” objected 
Shif’less Sol. “That’s a big swim with all our weepuns, 
an’ ef some o’ the warriors in canoes should ketch us in 
the water then we’d be goners, shore.” 

“You’re right, there, Sol,” said Henry. “It would be 
foolish in us to attempt to swim the river, when the 
warriors are looking for us, as they probably are by 
now, since Blackstaffe and Wyatt have got them back 
to realities.” 

“Then ef we don’t swim how do you expect us to git 
across, Henry? Ez fur me, I can’t wade across a river 
a mile wide an’ twenty feet deep.” 

“That’s true, Sol. Even Long Jim isn’t long enough 
for that. I’m planning for us to cross in state, un- 
touched by water and entirely comfortable; in fact, in 
a large, strong canoe.” 

“Nice good plan, Henry, ’cept in one thing; we ain’t 
got no canoe.” 

“I intend to borrow one from the Indians. You and I 
will slip along up the bank and take it from under their 
noses. You’re a marvel at such deeds, Sol.” 

“It’s ’cause he’s stealin’ somethin’ from somebody,” 
said Long Jim. 


73 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“Shut up, Jim,” said Henry. “It’s lawful to steal 
from an enemy to save your own life, and these Indians 
mean to hunt us down if they have to employ three 
thousand warriors and three months to do it. Suppose 
we go now.” 

The five turned toward the south and west, making 
a deep curve away from the camp, a precaution taken 
wisely, as they soon had evidence, hearing shots here 
and there, which they were quite sure were those of red 
hunters seeking game, wild turkeys on the bough, or 
deer drinking at the small streams. They were com- 
pelled to go very slowly, in order to avoid them, but the 
night, luckily, was dark enough to hide their trail from 
all eyes, save those that might be looking especially for it. 

They spoke only in whispers, but the young leader him- 
self said scarcely anything, his mind being occupied with 
deep and intense thought. He knew that the venture 
in search of an Indian canoe would be accompanied by 
most imminent risks, the vigilance and skill of Shif’less 
Sol and himself would be tested to the last degree, but 
a canoe they must have, and they would dare every peril 
to get it. 

They had gone about a mile when Henry suddenly 
raised his hand, and the five sank silently in the bush. 
A dozen warriors, treading without noise, passed within 
twenty feet of them and their course led toward the 
south. They flitted by so swiftly that it seemed almost 
as if shadows had passed, but Henry, who saw their 
faces, knew that they were not* mere hunters. These 


74 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


men were on the warpath. Perhaps they had seen the 
trail of the five somewhere, and were going south to 
close up the broken segment of the circle there. 

‘They’ve probably had a hint from Blackstaffe,” said 
Henry. “Next to Simon Girty he’s the shrewdest and 
most cunning of all the renegades. He has reasoning 
power, and knowing that we’ll take the bolder method, 
he’s probably concluded that we’ve followed Wyatt’s 
band.” 

“An’ so he hez sent that other band south to shut us 
in,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“An’ we might hev fled south ourselves from the 
fust,” said Long Jim, “but I cal’late we ain’t that kind 
uv people.” 

“No,” said Henry. “We can’t lead ’em in this chase 
back on the settlements. So long as they’re trying to 
spread a net around us we’ll draw ’em in the other di- 
rection. Now, boys, fall in behind me, and the first one 
that causes a blade of grass to rustle will have to make 
a present of his rifle to the others.” 

Following the great curve which they were traveling 
it was a full five miles to the point on the river they 
wished to reach. The forest, they knew, was full of 
warriors, some hunting, perhaps, but many thrown out 
on the great encircling movement intended to enclose the 
five. Now, the trailers, with deadly peril all about them, 
gave a superb exhibition of skill. There was no danger 
of any one losing his rifle, because no blade of grass 
rustled, nor did any leaf give back the sound of a brush- 


75 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


in g body. They were endowed peculiarly by birth and 
long habit to the life they lived and the dangers they 
faced. Their hearts beat high, but not with fear. Their 
muscles were steady, and eye and ear were attuned to 
the utmost for any strange presence in the forest. 

Henry led, Paul followed, Long Jim came next, then 
Silent Tom, and Shif’less Sol defended the rear. This 
was usually their order, the greatest trailer at the head 
of the line, and the next greatest at the end of it. They 
invariably fell into place with the quickness and precision 
of trained soldiers. 

A panther, not as large and fierce as the one that 
Henry had driven in fright down the ravine, saw them, 
looking upon human beings for the first time. It was 
his first impulse to make off through the woods, but 
they were soundless and in flight, and curiosity began 
to get the better of fear. He followed swiftly, some- 
what to one side, but where he could see, and the silent 
line went so fast that the panther himself was com- 
pelled to extend his muscles. He saw them come to a 
brook. The foremost leaped it, the others in turn did 
the same, landing exactly in his footsteps, and they went 
on without losing speed. Then the panther turned back, 
satisfied that he could not solve the problem his curi- 
osity had raised. 

Henry caught a yellow gleam through the leaves, and 
he knew that it was the Ohio. In two or three minutes, 
they were at the low shore, although the opposite bank 
was high. Both were wooded densely. The stream 

76 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


itself was here a full mile in width, a vast mass of 
water flowing slowly in silent majesty. They thought 
they saw far up the channel a faint reflection of the 
Indian fires, but they were not sure. Where they stood 
the river was as lone and desolate as it had been before 
man had come. The moonlight was not good, and their 
view of the farther sho: ' was dim, leaving them only 
the certainty tlrt it was lofty and thick with forest. 

“Paul, you and Jim and Tom lie here, where this lit- 
tle spit of land runs out into the water,” said Henry. 
“There’s good cover for you to wait in, and Sol and I 
will come down the river in our new canoe, or we won’t.” 

“At any rate come,” said Paul. 

“You can trust us,” replied Henry, ai i he and the 
shiftless one started at once along the edge of the river 
toward the northeast, where the Indian camp lay. Henry 
reckoned that it was about three miles away, but it would 
have to be approached with great care. As they ad- 
vanced they kept a watch on the farther shore also, and 
rounding a curve in the river they caught their first sight 
of its reflection. 

“It’s fur up the stream,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ I 
cal’late it’s ’bout opposite the big camp. Thar must be 
some warriors passin’ back an’ forth from band to band, 
an’ that, I reckon, will give us our chance fur a canoe.” 

“Yes, if we can make off with it without being seen,” 
said Henry. “A pursuit would spoil everything. We’d 
have to abandon the canoe and retreat back from the 
southern shore.” 


77 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“ ’Spose we go a leetle further up,” said Shif’less Sol. 
“The bank’s low here, but it’s high enough to hide us, 
an’ the bushes are mighty thick. The nearer we come to 
the Indian camp the greater the danger is, but the greater 
is our chance, too, to git a canoe.” 

“That’s right, Sol. We’ll try it.” 

They edged along yard by yard and soon could see 
through the intervening trees and bushes the light of the 
great camp, from which came a monotonous hum. 

“A lot of ’em are dancin’ the scalp dance,” said the 
shiftless one. “Will you ’scuse me, Henry, while I 
laugh a leetle to myself?” 

“Of course, Sol, but why do you want to laugh?” 

“ ’Cause they’re dancin’ the scalp dance when they 
ain’t goin’ to take no scalps. It’s ourn they’re thinkin’ 
of, but I kin tell you right now, Henry, that a year from 
today they’ll be growin’ squa’rly on top o’ our heads, 
right whar they are this minute.” 

“I hope and believe you’re right, Sol. Isn’t that a 
canoe putting out from the far shore ?” 

“Yes, a big one, with four warriors in it, an’ they’re 
cornin’ straight across to the main camp, paddlin’ like 
the strong men they are.” 

“Yes, I can see them clearly now, as they come nearer 
the middle of the stream. That would be a good canoe 
for us, Sol. It looks big enough.” 

“But I’m afraid we ain’t goin’ to hev it, Henry. It’s 
cornin’ straight on to the main camp, an’ it’ll be tied to 
the bank right in the glow o’ thar fires. Hevin’ wanted 



»'» i 


A lot of ’em are dancin’ the scalp dance 


> >> 






\ 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


that canoe, ez we both do, we’d better quit wantin’ it 
an’ want suthin’ else.” 

Henry laughed softly. 

“You’re a true philosopher, Sol,” he said. 

“You hev to be in the woods, Henry. Here we learn 
to take what we can, an’ let alone what we can’t. I guess 
the wilderness jerks all the foolishness out o’ a man, an’ 
brings him plum’ down to his level. Ain’t I right ’bout 
thar cornin’ straight to the main camp ?” 

“Yes, Sol, and they’ll land in a few more minutes. 
Those are big warriors, Miamis as their paint and dress 
show. Well, they’re out of our reckoning, so we’d better 
move a little farther up.” 

“We’ll be shore to find canoes tied to the bank, an’ 
thar will be our chance. Ef our luck’s good we’ll git it, 
an’ I find that luck is gen’ally with the bold.” 

The situation into which they had entered was one of 
extreme danger, but their surprising skill as trailers 
helped them greatly. The bank at this point was about 
eignt feet high, with rather a sharp slope, covered with 
a dense growth of bushes, in which their figures were 
well hidden, but they were so near now to the main 
camp that its luminous glow passed over their heads, 
and lay in a broad band of light on the yellow surface of 
the river. A canoe put out from the southern shore, and 
was paddled by two warriors to the northern bank. Evi- 
dently there was constant communication between the 
two forces. 

From the bank above them came the steady drone of 

79 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the scalp song, and they heard the measured beat of the 
dance. Voices, too, came to them as they advanced a lit- 
tle farther, and once Henry distinguished that of Black- 
staffe, although he was not able to understand the words. 
The light from the great fire was steadily growing 
stronger on the river and it would be a peril, disclosing 
their movements, if they took a canoe. From the south- 
ern forest came the cries of wolves and owls which were 
the signals of the Indians to one another, and Henry felt 
sure they were talking of the five. He was thoroughly 
convinced now that their trail had been discovered, and 
that the warriors, sure they were in the ring, were seek- 
ing to draw in the steel girdle enclosing them. And un- 
less the canoe was secured quickly it was likely they 
would succeed. The two paused, their minds in a state 
of painful indecision. 

“What do you think, Henry ?” whispered the shift- 
less one. 

“Nothing that amounts to anything.” 

“When you don’t know what to do the best thing to 
do is to do nothin’. ’Spose we jest wait a while. We’re 
well kivered here, an’ they’d never think o’ lookin’ so 
close by fur us, anyway. Besides, hev you noticed, 
Henry, that it’s growin’ a lot darker? ’Tain’t goin’ to 
rain, but the moon an’ all the stars are goin’ away, fur a 
rest, I s’pose, so they kin shine all the brighter tomorrow 
night.” 

“It’s so, Sol, and a good heavy blanket of darkness will 
help us a lot.” 


So 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


They lay perfectly still and waited with all the pa- 
tience of those who know they must be patient to live. 
A full hour passed, and the welcome darkness increased, 
the heavens turning into a solid canopy, black and vast. 
The light from the great campfire sank, and its luminous 
glow no longer appeared on the river. The stream itself 
showed but faintly yellow under the darkness. Henry’s 
heart began to beat high. Nature, as it so often did, was 
coming to their help. The droning song of the scalp 
dance had ceased and with it the voices of the warriors 
talking. No sound came from the river, save the soft 
swish of the flowing waters, and now and then a gurgle 
and a splash, when some huge catfish raised part of his 
body above the surface, and then let it fall back again. 

Another canoe came presently from the northern 
shore. Henry and Shif’less Sol, although they could not 
see it at first, knew it had started, because their keen 
ears caught the plash of the paddles. 

“It’s a big one, Henry,” whispered Shif’less Sol. 
“How many paddles do you make out by the sound ?” 

“Six. Is that your count, too?” 

“Yes. Now I kin see it. One, two, three, four, five, 
six. We wuz right in the number an’ it’s a big fine 
canoe, jest the canoe we want, Henry, an’ it’ll land ’bout 
twenty yards ’bove us. Somethin’ tells me our chance is 
cornin’ !” 

“I hope the something telling you is telling you right. 
In any case you’re correct about their landing. It will 
be almost exactly twenty yards away.” 


81 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


The great canoe emerged from the darkness, six pow- 
erful Miamis swinging the paddles, and it came in a 
straight line for the bank, leaving a trailing yellow wake. 
Henry admired their strength and dexterity. They were 
splendid canoemen, and he never felt any hatred of the 
Indians. He knew that they acted according to such 
guidance as they had, and it was merely circumstances 
that placed him and his kind in opposition to them and 
their kind. 

The light but strong craft touched the bank gently, 
and the six canoemen stepped out, a figure that appeared 
among the bushes confronting them. Henry, with a 
thrill, recognized Blackstaffe, and the canoe must have 
arrived on an errand of importance or the renegade would 
not have been there to meet the six warriors. 

“You will come into the camp and hear the reports of 
the scouts,” said Blackstaife, speaking in Miami, which 
both Henry and the shiftless one understood perfectly. 
“It will take some time to do this, because not all of 
them have returned yet. Then two of you had better 
go back with the canoe, while the others stay here . to 
help us. I think we have these five rovers trapped at 
last, and we’ll make an end of ’em. They’ve certainly 
caused us enough trouble, and I’m bound to say they’re 
masters of forest war.” 

One of the warriors tied the canoe to a bush with a 
willow withe, and then all six following Blackstaffe 
disappeared among the trees, going toward the camp- 
fire. 


82 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


“At least Blackstaffe compliments us before sending 
us to the next world,” whispered Henry. 

“Ez fur me,” Shif’less Sol whispered back, “I ain’t 
goin’ to no next world, jest to oblige a villyun renegade. 
Besides, I like this wilderness o’ ours too much to leave 
it fur anybody. They think they’re mighty smart an’ 
that they’re plannin’ somethin’ big right now, but all the 
same they’re givin’ us our chance.” 

“What do you mean, Sol?” 

“Didn’t you hear the villyun say that two o’ the war- 
riors wuz to go back with the boat?” 

“Well, what of it?” 

“Then two warriors is goin’ to be me an’ you, 
Henry.” 

“Of course. I ought to have thought of it, too.” 

“Thar must be sent’nels on the bank, but waitin’ ’bout 
ten minutes we’ll git into the canoe an’ paddle off. The 
sent’nels will know that two warriors are to go back in it, 
an’ they’ll think we’re them. This darkness which has 
come up, heavy an’ black, on purpose to help us, will 
keep ’em from seein’ that we ain’t warriors. When we 
git into the middle o’ the river, whar thar eyes can’t 
even make out the canoe, we’ll go down stream like a 
flash o’ lightnin’, pick up the boys and then be off ag’in 
like another flash o’ lightnin’.” 

“A good plan, Sol, and we’ll try it. As you say, luck 
is always on the side of the bold, and I don’t see why we 
can’t succeed.” 

But to wait the necessary fifteen minutes was one of 

83 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the hardest tasks they ever undertook. It would not do 
to take the canoe at once, as suspicion would certainly 
be aroused. They must conform to Blackstaffe’s own 
plan. It seemed to them that they must actually hold 
themselves with their own hands to keep from creeping 
forward to the canoe, yet they did it, though the minutes 
doubled and redoubled in length, and then tripled; but, 
after a time that both judged sufficient, they slid for- 
ward, and Henry’s knife cut the willow withe. Then 
they lifted themselves gently into the canoe, took up two 
of the paddles and were away. 

Henry’s back was to the southern bank, and despite 
all his experience and courage shivers ran through his 
body at the thought that a bullet from the forest might 
strike him any moment. Yet he did not wish to seem 
in a hurry, and restrained his eagerness to paddle with 
all his might. 

“Softly, Sol, softly,” he said. “We must not be in 
too much haste.” 

“Don’t I know it, Henry? Don’t I know that we 
must ’pear to be the two warriors whose business it is 
to take back the canoe? Ain’t I jest strainin’ an’ achin’ 
to make the biggest sweep with my paddle I ever swep’, 
an’ ain’t my mind pullin’ ag’inst my hands all the time, 
tryin’ to keep ’em at the proper gait? Are you shore 
you ain’t felt no bullet in your back yet, Henry?” 

“No, Sol. What makes you ask such a question?” 

“ ’Cause I reckon I wuz so much afeared o’ one that 
I imagined the place whar it’s track would be in me, ef 

84 

) 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


it had been really fired. My fancy is pow’ful lively at 
sech a time.” 

“There has been no alarm, at least not yet, and we’re 
near the middle of the river. The canoe must be in- 
visible, although I can see the fires on either shore. Now, 
Sol, we’ll turn down stream and paddle with all our 
might, showing what canoemen we really are!” 

It was with actual physical as well as mental joy that 
they turned the prow of the canoe toward the southeast, 
that is, with the current, and began to do their best with 
the paddles. They no longer had that horrible fear of a 
bullet in the back, and muscles seemed to leap together 
with the spirit into greater strength and elasticity. 

“Come on you, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol exultantly. 
“Keep up your side! Prove that you’re jest ez good 
a man with the paddle ez me! We ain’t makin’ more’n 
a mile a minute, an’ fur sech ez we are that’s nothin’ but 
standin’ still!” 

The two bent their powerful backs a little and their 
great arms swept the paddles through the water at an 
amazing rate. The soul of Shif’less Sol surged up to 
the heights. He became dithyrambic and he spoke in a 
tone not loud, but full of concentrated fire and feeling. 

“Fine, you Henry, you!” he said. “But we kin do 
better! The canoe is goin’ fast, but one or two canoes 
in the hist’ry o’ the world hez gone ez fast! We must 
go faster by ten or fifteen miles an hour an’ set the rec- 
ord that will stan’ ! It’s so dark in here I can’t see 
either bank, but I wish sometimes I could, warriors or 

85 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


no warriors! Then I could see ’em whizzin’ by, jest 
streaks, with all the trees and bushes meltin’ into one 
another like a green ribbon! Now, that’s the way to do 
it, Henry! Our speed is jumpin’ ! I ain’t shore whether 
the canoe is touchin’ the water or not! I think mebbe 
it’s jest our paddles that dip in, an’ that the canoe is 
flyin’ through the air! An’ not a soun’ from ’em yet! 
They haven’t discovered that the wrong warriors hev 
took thar boat, but they will soon ! Now we’ll turn her 
in toward the southern bank, Henry, ’cause in the bat- 
tin’ o’ an eye or two we’ll be whar the rest o’ the boys 
are a-lyin’ hid in the bushes! Now, slow an’ slower! 
I kin see the trees an’ bushes separatin’ tharselves, an’ 
thar’s the bank, an’ now I see the face o’ Long Jim, 
’bout seven feet above the groun’ ! He’s an onery, ugly 
cuss, never givin’ me all the respeck that’s due me, but 
somehow I like him, an’ he never looked better nor more 
welcome than he does now, God bless the long-armed, 
long-legged, fightin’, gen’rous, kind-hearted cuss! An’ 
thar’s Paul, too, lookin’ fur all the world like a scholar, 
crammed full o’ book l’arnin’, ’stead o’ the ring-tailed 
forest runner, half hoss, half alligator, that he is, though 
he’s got the book l’arnin’ an’ is one o’ the greatest schol- 
ars the world ever seed ! An’ that’s Tom Ross, with his 
mouth openin’ ez ef he wuz ’bout to speak a word, though 
he’ll conclude, likely, that he oughtn’t, an’ all three o’ 
’em are pow’ful glad to see us cornin’ in our triumphal 
Roman gallus that we hev captured from the enemy.” 

“Galley, Sol, galley! Not gallus!” 


86 


THE CAPTURED CANOE 


“It’s all the same, galley or gallus. We hev got it, 
an’ we are in it, an’ it’s a fine big canoe with six pad- 
dles, one for ev’ry one o’ us an’ one to spare! Now 
here we are ag’in the bank, an’ thar they are ready to 
jump in !” 

There was no time for hesitation, as a long and tre- 
mendous war whoop from a point up the stream seemed 
to surcharge the whole night with rage and ferocity. It 
was evident that the warriors had discovered that the 
wrong men had taken the canoe, as they were bound to 
do soon, and the chase would be on at once, conducted 
with all the power and tenacity of those who devoted 
their lives to such deeds. 

‘‘They’ll know, of course, that we’ve come down the 
stream, not daring to go against the current,” said 
Henry, “and they’ll follow with every canoe they 
have.”- 

“An’ more will run along either bank hopin’ fur a 
shot,” said the shiftless one, “an’ so while we turn our 
canoe into a shootin’ star ag’in we’ll hev to remember to 
keep in the middle o’ the stream. A lot o’ the dark that 
helped us to git the canoe is fadin’ away, leavin’ us to 
make our race fur our lives mostly in the open.” 

The great war whoop came again, filling the forest 
with its fierce echoes, and then followed silence, a silence 
which every one of the five knew would be broken later 
by the plash of paddles. The valley Indians had great 
canoes, sometimes carrying as many as twenty paddles, 
and when twenty strong backs were bent into one of them 

87 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


it could come at greater speed than any five in the world 
could command. 

But this five, calm and ready to face any danger, put 
their rifles where they could reach them in an instant, 
and then their canoe shot down the stream. 


CHAPTER V 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 

T HE Ohio was the great stream of the borderers. 
It was the artery that led into the vast, rich new 
lands of the west, upon its waters many of them 
came, and upon its current and along its banks were 
fought thrilling battles between white men and red. Many 
a race for life was made upon its bosom, but none was 
ever carried on with more courage and energy than the 
one now occurring. 

They kept well to the middle of the streanl, which was 
still of great width, a full mile across, where they would 
be safe from shots from either shore, until the river 
narrowed, and although they sent the canoe along very 
fast, they did not use their full strength, keeping a re- 
serve for the greater emergency which was sure to come. 

Meanwhile they worked like a machine. The arms of 
five rose together and five paddles made a single plash. 
In the returning moonlight the water took on a silver 
color, and it fell away in masses of shimmering bubbles 
from the paddle blades. Before them the river spread 
its vast width, at once a channel of escape and of danger. 

89 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


The forest yet rose on either bank, a solid mass of green, 
in which nothing stirred, and from which no sound came. 

The silence, save for the swish of the paddles, was 
brooding and full of menace. Paul, so sensitive to cir- 
cumstance, felt as if it were a sullen sky, out of which 
would suddenly come a blazing flash of lightning. But 
to Henry the greatest anxiety was the narrowing of the 
river which must come before long. The Ohio was not 
a mile wide everywhere, and when that straitening of 
the stream occurred they would be within rifle shot of 
the warriors on one bank or the other. And while the 
Indians were not good marksmen, it was true that where 
there were many bullets not all missed. 

A quarter of an hour passed, and they heard the war- 
whoop behind them, and then a few moments later the 
faint, rhythmic swish of paddles. The moonlight had 
been deepening fast, and Henry saw two of the great 
canoes appear, although they were yet a full half mile 
away. But they came on at a mighty pace, and it was 
evident that unless bullets stopped them they would over- 
take the fugitives. Henry put aside his paddle, leaving 
the work for the present to the others, and studied the 
long canoes. He and his comrades might strain as they 
would, but in an hour the big boats filled with muscular 
warriors would be alongside. They must devise some 
other method to elude the pursuit. A shout from Paul 
caused him to turn. 

A peninsula from the south projected into the river, 
making its width at this point much less than half a mile, 


90 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


and upon the spit, which was bare, stood several Indian 
warriors, rifle in hand and waiting. 

'‘Turn the canoe in toward the northern shore,” said 
Henry. “We must chance a shot from that quarter, deal- 
ing with the seen danger, and letting the unseen go. Sol, 
you and Tom take your rifles, and I’ll take mine too. 
Paul, you and Jim do the paddling and we’ll see whether 
those warriors on the sand stop us, or are just taking a 
heavy risk themselves.” 

The canoe sheered off violently toward the northern 
bank, but did not cease to move swiftly, as Paul and 
Jim alone were able to send it along at a great rate. 
Henry, with his rifle lying in the hollow of his arm, 
watched a large warrior standing on the edge of the 
water. 

“I’ll take the big fellow with the waving scalp lock,” 
he said. 

“The short, broad one by the side o’ him is mine,” 
said Shif’less Sol. “Which is yours, Tom?” 

“One with red blanket looped over his shoulder,” re- 
plied the taciturn rover. 

“Be sure of your aim,” said Henry. “We’re running 
a gauntlet, but it’s likely to be as much of a gauntlet for 
those warriors as it is for us.” 

Perhaps the Indians on the spit did not know that 
the canoe contained the best marksmen in the West, as 
they crowded closer to the water’s edge, uttered a yell 
or two of triumph and raised their own weapons. The 
three rifles in the canoe flashed together and the big 


9i 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


warrior, the short, broad one, and the one with the red 
blanket looped over his shoulder, fell on the sand. One 
of them got up again and fled with his unhurt comrades 
into the forest, but the others lay quite still, with their 
feet in the water. As the marksmen reloaded rapidly, 
Henry cried to the paddlers : 

“Now, boys, back toward the middle of the river and 
put all your might in it !” 

Paul and Long Jim swung the canoe into the main 
current, which had increased greatly in strength here, 
owing to the narrowing of the stream, and their pad- 
dles flashed fast. Two of the Indians who had fled into 
the woods reappeared and fired at them, but their bullets 
fell wide, and Henry, who had now rammed in the sec- 
ond charge, wounded one of them, whereupon they fled 
to cover as quickly as they did the first time. 

Shi f ’less Sol and Tom Ross had also reloaded, but put 
their rifles in the bottom of the boat and resumed their 
paddles. The danger on the land spit had been passed, 
but the great canoes behind them were hanging on tena- 
ciously and were gaining, not rapidly, but with certainty. 
Henry swept them again with a measuring eye, and he 
saw no reason to change his calculations. 

“They’ll come within rifle shot in just about an hour,” 
he repeated. “We’d pick off some of them with our 
bullets, but they’d keep on coming anyhow, and that 
would be the end of us.” 

Such a solemn statement would have daunted any but 
those who had escaped many great dangers. Imminent 


92 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


and deadly as was the peril, it did not occur to any of 
the five that they would not evade it, the problem now 
being one of method rather than result. 

“What are we going to do, Henry ?” asked Paul. 

“I don’t know yet,” replied the leader, “but we’ll keep 
going until something develops.” 

“Thar’s your development!” exclaimed the shiftless 
one, as a rifle was fired from the northern shore, and 
a bullet plashed in the water just ahead of them. Then 
came a second shot from the same source which struck 
the inoffensive river behind them. They were now being 
attacked from both banks while the great canoes followed 
tenaciously. 

“We don’t have to bother about one thing,” said Paul 
grimly. “We know which way to go, and it’s the only 
way that’s open to us.” 

But the threat offered by the northern shore did not 
seem to be so menacing. The river began to widen again 
and rapidly, and the scattered shots fired later on came 
from a great distance, falling short. Those discharged 
from the southern bank also missed the mark as widely. 
Henry no longer paid any attention to them, but was 
examining the forest and the curves of the river with a 
minute scrutiny. His look, which had been very grave, 
brightened suddenly, and a reassuring flash appeared in 
his eye. 

“What is it, Henry?” asked Shif’less Sol, who had 
noticed the change. 

“We’ve been along here before,” replied the great 


93 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


youth. “I know the shores now, and it’s mighty lucky 
for us that we are just where we are.” 

The shiftless one looked at the northern, then at the 
southern forest, and shook his head. 

“I don’t ’pear to recall it,” he said. “The woods, at 
this distance away, look like any other woods at night, 
black an’ mighty nigh solid.” 

“It’s not so much the forest, because, like you, I 
couldn’t tell it from any other, as it is the curve of the 
river. I thought I saw something familiar in it a little 
while ago, and now I know by the sound that I’m right.” 

“Sound! What sound?” 

“Turn your ears down the river and listen as hard as 
you can. After a while you’ll hear a faint humming.” 

“So I do, Henry, but I wouldn’t hev noticed it ef 
you hadn’t told me about it, an’ even ef I do hear it I 
don’t know what it means.” 

“It’s made by the rush of a great volume of water, 
Sol. It’s the Falls of the Ohio, that not many white 
men have yet seen, a gradual sort of fall, one that boats 
can go over without trouble most of the time, but which, 
owing to the state of the river, are just now at their 
highest.” 

“An’ you mean fur them falls to come in between us 
an’ the big canoes? You’re reckonin’ on water to 
save us?” 

“That’s what I have in mind, Sol. The falls are dan- 
gerous at this stage of the river, no doubt about it, but 
we’re not canoemen for nothing, and with our lives at 


94 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


stake we’ll not think twice before shooting ’em. What 
say you, boys?” 

“The falls fur me !” replied the shiftless one, quickly. 

“Nothin’ could keep me from takin’ the tumble. I jest 
love them falls,” said Long Jim. 

“It’s that or nothing,” said Paul. 

“On!” said Silent Tom. 

“Then ease a little with your paddles,” said Henry. 
“The Indians know, of course, that the falls are just 
ahead, and I notice they are not now pushing us so 
hard. It follows, then, that the falls are at a danger- 
ous height they don’t often reach, and they expect to 
trap us.” 

“In which they will be mighty well fooled.” 

“I think so. I’ll sit in the prow of the boat and do 
my best with my paddle to guide. I believe we can 
shoot the falls all right, but maybe we’ll be swamped in 
the rapids below. But we’re all good swimmers, and, if 
we do go over, every fellow must swim for the northern 
bank, where the Indians are fewest. Some one of us must 
manage to save his rifle and ammunition or we’d be lost, 
even if we happened to reach the land. Still, it’s pos- 
sible that we can keep afloat. It’s a good canoe.” 

“A good canoe !” exclaimed the shiftless one, in whom 
the spirit of achievement and of triumph was rising 
again. “It’s the finest canoe on all this great river, and 
didn’t I tell you boys that them that’s bold always win ! 
Jest when our last chance ’peared to be gone, these falls 
wuz put squar’ly in our track to save us! Will they 


95 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


wreck us ? No, they won’t ! We’ll shoot ’em like a bird 
on the wing!” 

He looked back at their pursuers, and gave utterance 
suddenly to a long, piercing shout of defiance. The In- 
dians in the canoes replied with war whoops that Henry 
could read easily. They expressed faith in speedy tri- 
umph, and joy over the destruction of the five. He saw, 
moreover, that they were using only half strength now, 
preferring to take their ease while the game struggled 
vainly in the net. But as well as many of these warriors 
knew the five they did not know them to the full. 

The shiftless one waited until their last war whoop 
died, and then, sending forth once more his long, thrill- 
ing note of defiance, he burst again into his triumphal 
chant. 

“Steady now with the paddles, boys,” he cried, “an* 
we’ll ride the water ez ef we’d done nothin’ else all our 
lives ! Oh, I love rivers, big rivers, speshully when they 
hev a strong current like this that takes your boat ’long 
an’ you don’t hev to do no work! Now it reaches up 
a thousand hands that grab our canoe an’ sail ’long with 
it! Don’t paddle any more, boys, but jest hold your- 
selves ready to do it, when needed! The river’s doin’ 
all the work, an’ it never gits tired! Look, now, how 
the current’s a-rushin’, an’ a-dancin’, an’ a-hummin’! 
Look at the white water ’roun’ us! Look at the water 
behind us, an’ hear the roarin’ before us! Thar, she 
rocks, but never min’ that! Wait till the water comes 
spillin’ in ! Then it will be time to use the paddles !” 

96 


* 



A gigantic wolf . . . launched himself straight at the 
warrior’s throat” 




• , ■ 














if * 

■ ■ . 




. 












. 










































































































THE PROTECTING RIVER 


He burst once more into that irrepressible yell of 
defiance, and then he cried exultantly: 

“They slow up ! They’re gittin’ afeard ! We’ve made 
the race too fast fur ’em! Come on, you warriors! 
Ain’t you ready to go whar we will? These falls are 
fine an’ we jest love to play with ’em! We are goin’ 
to sail down ’em, an’ then we’re goin’ to sail back up 
’em ag’in! Don’t you hear all that roarin’? It’s the 
tumblin’ o’ the water, an’ it’s singin’ a song to you, tellin’ 
you to come !” 

The shiftless one’s own tremendous song had a thrill- 
ing effect upon his comrades. Their spirits leaped with 
it. The rushing canoe was now dancing upon the sur- 
face of the river, but somehow they were not afraid. 
They were at that reach of the river where a great city 
was destined to grow upon the southern shore, and which 
was to be the scene, a year or two later, of other activi- 
ties of theirs, but now both banks were in solid, black 
forest, and no human habitation had yet appeared. 

The canoe was rocking dangerously and all five began 
to use the paddles now and then, as the white water 
foamed around them. It required the utmost quickness 
of eye and hand to keep afloat, and the flying spray soon 
wet them through and through. Yet the soul of Shif’less 
Sol was still undaunted. He sang his song of victory, 
and although most of the words were lost amid the crash 
and roar of the waters, their triumphant note rose above 
every other sound, and found an echo in the hearts of 
the others. 


97 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Henry, looking back, saw that the long canoes had 
turned and were making for the southern shore. Great 
as was the prize they sought, they would not dare the 
falls, and half the battle was won. 

“They don’t follow !” he shouted at the top of his voice. 
“And now for the miracle that will keep us afloat !” 

The canoe raced down the watery slope and the spray 
continued to drench them, though they had taken the 
precaution to cover up their rifles and ammunition. But 
their surpassing skill had its reward. The descent soon 
became more gradual, the torrents of white water sank, 
and then they slid forward in the rapids, still going at 
a great rate, but no longer in danger. 

“An’ we’ve left the enemy behind !” sang the shiftless 
one, looking back at the white masses. “He thought he 
had us, but he hadn’t! He turned back at the steep 
slope, but we came on ! Thar’s nothin’ like havin’ a fall 
between you an’ a lot o’ pursuin’ Injun canoes, is thar, 
Paul?” 


Paul laughed, half in amusement and half in nervous 
relief. 

“No, Sol, there isn’t, at least not now,” he replied. 
“It looks as if these falls had been put here especially 
to save us.” 

“I like to think so, too,” said the shiftless one. 

The river was still very wide and they kept the canoe 
in its center, although they no longer dreaded Indian 
shots, feeliiik quite sure that no warriors were on 
either shore' below the falls. So they went on three or 

98 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


four miles, until Paul asked what was the next plan. 

“We must talk it over, all of us,” said Henry. “The 
canoe is of no particular use to us except as a way of 
escape from immediate danger.” 

“But it and the falls together saved us,” said Shif’less 
Sol. “Oh, it’s a good boat, a fine boat, a friendly 
boat!” 

“I hate to desert a friend.” 

“It must be done. We can’t stay forever on the river 
in a canoe. That would merely invite destruction. The 
Indians can take their canoes out of the water, carry 
them around the falls and resume the pursuit.” 

“O’ course I know you’re right, Henry. I wuz jest 
droppin’ a tear or two over the partin’ with our faithful 
canoe. We make fur the north bank, I s’pose.” 

“That seems to me to be the right course, because the 
warriors will be thicker on the south side. We’ll keep 
our policy of defense against them by resuming the 
offense. What say you, Paul?” 

“I choose the north bank.” 

“And you, Jim?” 

“North, uv course.” 

“And you, Tom?” 

“North.” 

“And Sol and I have already spoken. We’ll make for 
the low point across there, sink the canoe and go into 
the forest. The Indians will be sure in time to pick up 
our trail and follow' us, but we’ll escape ’em as we’ve 
escaped twice already.” 


99 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“Red Eagle and Yellow Panther will come for us 
now,” said Paul. “It’s their turn next.” 

“Let ’em,” said Long Jim in sanguine tones. “They 
can’t beat us.” 

They were now out of the rapids and were paddling 
swiftly toward the northern shore, with their eyes on a 
small cove, where the bushes grew thick to the water’s 
edge. When they reached it they pushed the canoe into 
the dense thicket and sank it. 

“After all,” said Shif’less Sol, “we’re not partin’ 
wholly with our friend. We know whar he is, an’ he’ll 
wait here until some time or other when we want him 
ag’in.” 

Gathering up their arms, ammunition and supplies, 
they traveled northward through the dense forest until 
they came to a small and well sheltered valley, where 
they concluded to rest, it being full time, as collapse was 
coming fast after their great exertions and intense strain. 
Nevertheless, Silent Tom was able to keep the first 
watch, while the others threw themselves on the ground 
and went to sleep almost instantly. 

Tom had promised to awaken Shif’less Sol in two 
hours, but he did not do so. He knew how much his 
comrades needed rest, and being willing to sacrifice him- 
self, he watched until dawn, whieh came bright, cold at 
first, and then full of grateful warmth, a great sun hang- 
ing in a vast disc of reddish gold over the eastern forest. 

Silent Tom Ross, in his most talkative moments, was 
a man of few words, at other times of none, but he felt 


100 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


deeply. A life spent wholly in the woods into which he 
fitted so supremely had given him much of the Indian 
feeling. He, too, peopled earth, air and water with 
spirits, and to him the wild became incarnate. The great 
burning sun, at which he took occasional glances, was 
almost the same as the God of the white man and the 
Manitou of the red man. He had keenly appreciated 
their danger, both when Henry was at the hollow, and 
when they were in the canoe on the river, hemmed in on 
three sides. And yet they had come safely from both 
nets. The skill of the five had been great, but more 
than human skill had helped them to escape from such 
watchful and powerful enemies. 

Tom Ross, as he looked at the faces of his comrades, 
knitted to him by so many hardships and perils shared, 
was deeply grateful. He took one or two more glances 
at the great burning sun, and the sky that looked like 
illimitable depths of velvet blue, and then he surveyed 
the whole circle of the forest curving around them. It 
was silent there, no sign of a foe appeared, all seemed 
to be as peaceful as a great park in the Old World. Tom 
said no words, not even to himself, but his prayer of 
thanks ran: 

“O Lord, I offer my gratitude to Thee for the friends 
whom Thou hast given me. As they have been faithful 
to me in every danger, so shall I try to be faithful to 
them. Perhaps my mind moves more slowly than theirs, 
but I strive always to make it move in the right way. 
They are younger than I am, and I feel it my duty and 

IOI 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


my pleasure, too, to watch over them, despite their 
strength of body, mind and spirit. I have not the gift 
of words, nor do I pray for it, but help me in other things 
that I may do my part and more. ,, 

Then Tom Ross felt uplifted. The dangers passed 
were passed, and those to come could not press upon him 
yet. He was singularly light of heart, and the wind 
sang among the leaves for him, though not in words, as 
it sang often for Henry. 

He took another look at his comrades, and they still 
slept as if they would never awake. The strain of the 
preceding nights and days had been tremendous, and 
their spirits, having gone away with old King Sleep to 
his untroubled realms, showed no signs of a wish to come 
back again to a land of unlimited peril. He had prom- 
ised faithfully to awaken one of them long ago for the 
second, turn at the watch, and he knew that all of them 
expected to be up at sunrise, but he had broken his 
promise and he was happy in the breaking of it. 

Nor did he awaken them now. Instead he made a 
wide circle through the forest, using his good eyes and 
good ears to their utmost. The stillness had gone, be- 
cause birds were singing from pure joy at the dawn, and 
the thickets rustled with the movements of small animals 
setting about the day’s work and play. But Silent Tom 
knew all these sounds, and he paid no attention to them. 
Instead he listened for man, man the vengeful, the dan- 
gerous and the deadly, and hearing nothing from him 
and being sure that he was not near, he went back to 


102 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


the place where the four sleepers lay. Examining them 
critically he saw that they had not stirred a particle. 
They had been so absolutely still that they had grown 
into the landscape itself. 

Tom Ross smiled a deep smile that brought his mouth 
well across his face and made his eyes crinkle up, and 
then, disregarding their wishes with the utmost lightness 
of heart, he sat himself down, calmly letting them sleep 
on. He produced from an inside pocket a long stretch 
of fine, thin, but very strong cord, and ran it through 
his fingers until he came to the sharp hook on the end. 
It was all in good trim, and his questing eye soon saw 
where a long, slender pole could be cut. Then he put 
thread and hook back in his pocket, and sat as silent as the 
sleepers, but bright-eyed and watchful. No one could 
come near without his knowledge. 

Shi f ’less Sol awoke first, yawning mightily, but he did 
not yet open his eyes. 

“Who’s watchin’?” he called. 

“Me,” replied Ross. 

“Is it day yet?” 

“Look up an’ see.” 

The shiftless one did look up, and when he beheld the 
great sun shining almost directly over his head he ex- 
claimed in surprise: 

“Why, Tom, is it today or tomorrer?” 

“It’s today, though I guess it’s well on to noon.” 

“Seein’ the sun whar it is, an’ feelin’ now ez ef I had 
slep’ so long, I thought mebbe it might be tomorrer. 


103 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


An’ it bein’ so late an’ me sleepin’, too, it looks ez el 
the warriors ought to hev us.” 

“But they hevn’t, Sol. All safe.” 

“No, Tom, they hevn’t got us, an’ now, hevin’ learned 
from your long an’ volyble conversation that it ain’t 
tomorrer an’ that we are free, ’stead o’ bein’ taken 
captive an’ bein’ burned at the stake by the Injuns, I’m 
feelin’ mighty fine.” 

“Sol, you talk real foolish at times. How could we 
be took by the Injuns an’ be burned alive at the stake, 
an’ not know nothin’ ’bout it?” 

“Don’t ask me, Tom. Thar are lots o’ strange things 
that I don’t pretend to understand an’ me a smart man, 
too. Here, you, Jim Hart! Wake up! Shake them 
long legs an’ arms o’ yours an’ cook our breakfast !” 

Silent Tom began to laugh, not audibly, but his lips 
moved in such a manner that they betrayed risibility. 
The shiftless one looked at him suspiciously. 

“Tom Ross,” he said, “what you laughin’ at?” 

“You told Long Jim to cook breakfast, didn’t 
you ?” 

“I shorely did, an’ I meant it, too.” 

“He ain’t.” 

“Why ain’t he?” 

“Because he ain’t.” 

“Ef he ain’t, then why ain’t he?” 

“Because thar ain’t any.” 

“Thar ain’t any breakfast, you mean?” 

“Jest what I say. He ain’t goin’ to cook breakfast, 


104 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


’cause thar ain’t any to cook, an’ thar ain’t no more 
to say.” 

Henry and Paul, awakening at the sound of the voices, 
sat up and caught the last words. 

“Do you mean to tell us, Tom,” exclaimed Paul, “that 
we have nothing to eat?” 

“Shorely,” said Silent Tom triumphantly. “Look ! See !” 

All of them examined their packs quickly, but they 
had eaten the last scrap of food the day before. Silent 
Tom’s mouth again stretched across his face with tri- 
umph and his eyes crinkled up. 

“Right, ain’t it?” he asked exultantly. 

“Look here you, Tom Ross,” exclaimed Shif’less Sol, 
indignantly, “you’d rather be right an’ starve to death 
than be wrong an’ live!” 

“Right, ain’t I?” 

“Yes, right, ain’t you, ’bout the food, an’ wrong in 
everythin’ else. Ef you say 'ain’t’ to me ag’in, Tom Ross, 
inside o’ a week, I’ll club you so hard over the head 
with your own gun that you won’t be able to speak an- 
other word fur a year ! The idee o’ you laughin’ an’ me 
plum’ dead with hunger! Why, I could eat a hull big 
buffler by myself, an’ ef he wuzn’t cooked I could eat 
him alive, an’ on the hoof too, so I could !” 

Tom Ross continued to laugh silently with his eyes 
and lips. 

“What are we to do?” asked Paul in dismay. “If we 
were to find game we wouldn’t dare fire at it with the 
Indians perhaps so near.” 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“True,” said Tom Ross. 

“And if we can’t fire at it we dertainly can’t catch it 
with our hands.” 

“True,” said Tom Ross. 

“And then are we to starve to death?” 

“No,” said Tom Ross. 

Paul did not ask anything more, but his questioning 
look was on the silent man. 

“Fish,” said Tom Ross, showing his line and hook. 

“Where?” asked Shif’less Sol. 

“Fine, clear creek, only hundred yards away.” 

“Do you know that it hez any fish in it?” 

“Saw ’em little while ago. Fine big fellers, bass.” 

“Then be quick an’ ketch a lot, ’cause the pangs o’ 
starvation are already on me.” 

Tom Ross cut the slim pole that he had already picked 
out and measured with his eye, took squirming bait from 
the soft earth under a stone, just as millions of boys in 
the Mississippi valley have done, and started for the 
creek, Paul being delegated to accompany him, while 
Henry, Long Jim and the shiftless one proceeded to 
build a fire in the most secluded spot they could find. 
There was danger in a fire, but they could shield the 
smoke, or at least most of it, and the risk must be taken 
anyhow. They could not eat raw the fish which they 
did not doubt for a moment Tom Ross would soon 
bring. 

Meanwhile Paul and Tom reached the banks of the 
creek, which was all the silent one had claimed for it, 

106 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


fifteen feet wide, two feet deep, clear water, flowing 
over a pebbly bottonj. Tom tied his string to the pole, 
and threw in the hook and bait. 

“You watch, I fish,” he said. 

Paul, his rifle in the crook of his arm, strolled a little 
bit down the stream, examining the forest and listening 
attentively for any hostile sound. Since it was his busi- 
ness to protect the fisherman while he fished, he meant to 
protect him well, and no enemy could have come near 
without being observed by him^ And yet he had enough 
detachment from the dangers of their situation to drink 
deep in the beauty of the wilderness, which was here a 
tangle of green forest, shot with wild flowers and cut 
by clear running waters. 

But he did not go so far that he failed to hear a 
thump where Tom Ross was sitting, and he knew that 
a fine fish had been landed. Presently a second thump 
came to his ear, and, glancing through the bushes, he 
saw Tom taking the fish off the hook, a look of intense 
satisfaction on his face. Then the silent fisherman threw 
in the line again and leaned back luxuriously against the 
trunk of a tree, while he waited for his third bite. Paul 
smiled. He knew that Silent Tom was happy, happy 
because he had prepared for and was achieving a neces- 
sary task. 

Paul went on in a circuit about the fisherman, cross- 
ing the creek lower down, where it was narrower, on a 
fallen log, and discovered no sign of a foe, though he 
did come to a bed of wild flowers, the delicate pale blue 


107 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of which pleased him so much that he broke off two 
blossoms and thrust them into his deerskin tunic. Then 
he came back to Silent Tom, to find that he had caught 
four fine large fish, and, having thrown away his pole, 
was winding up his line. 

“ ’Nuff,” said the silent one. 

“I think so, too,” said Paul, “and now we’ll hurry 
back with ’em.” 

“Look like a flower garden, you!” 

“If I do I’m glad of it.” 

“Like it myself.” 

“I know you do, Tom. I know that however you may 
appear, and that however fierce and warlike you may be 
at times, your character rests upon a solid bedrock of 
poetry.” 

Tom stared and then smiled, and by this time the two 
had returned with their spoils to a little valley in which 
a little fire was burning, with the blaze smothered already, 
but a fine bed of coals left. The fish were cleaned with 
amazing quickness, and then Long Jim broiled them in 
a manner fit for kings. The five ate hungrily, but with 
due regard for manners. 

“You’re a good fisherman, Tom Ross,” said Shif’less 
Sol, “but it ought to be my job.” 

“Why?” 

“ ’Cause it’s the job o’ a lazy man. I reckon that all 
fishermen, leastways them that fish in creeks an’ rivers, 
are lazy, nothin’ to do but set still an’ doze till a fish 
comes along an’ hooks hisself on to your bait. Then 

108 


THE PROTECTING RIVER 


you jest hev to heave him in an’ put the hook back in 
the water ag’in.” 

“There’s enough of the fish left for another meal,” 
said Henry, “and I think we’d better put it in our packs 
and be off.” 

“You still favor a retreat into the north?” said Paul. 

“Yes, and toward the northeast, too. We’ll go in the 
direction of Piqua and Chillicothe, their big towns. As 
we’ve concluded over and over again, the offensive is 
the best defensive, and we’ll push it to the utmost 
What’s your opinion, Sol? Who do you think will be 
the next leader to come against us?” 

“Red Eagle an’ the Shawnees. I’m thinkin’ they’re 
curvin’ out now to trap us, an’ that Red Eagle is a 
mighty crafty fellow.” 

They trod out the coals, threw some dead leaves over 
them, and took a course toward the northeast. It seemed 
pretty safe to assume that the ring of warriors was thick- 
est in the south, and that they might slip through in the 
north. Time and distance were of little importance to 
them, and they felt able to find their rations as they went 
in the forest. 

They had been traveling about an hour at the easy 
walk of the border, when they heard a long cry behind 
them. 

“They’ve found the dead coals o’ our fire,” said 
Shif’less Sol. 

“Which means that they’re not so far away,” said 
Paul. 


109 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“But we’ve been cornin’ over rocky ground, an’ the 
trail ain’t picked up so easy. An’ we might make it a lot 
harder by wadin’ a while up this branch.” 

The brook fortunately led in the direction in which 
they wished to go. They walked in it a full half mile, and 
as it had a sandy bottom their footprints vanished almost 
at once. When they emerged at last they heard the long 
cry again, now from a point toward the east, and then 
a distant answer from a point in the west. Shif’less Sol 
laughed with intense enjoyment. 

“Guessin’! Jest guessin’!” he said. “They’ve found 
the dead coals an’ they know that we wuz thar once, but 
that now we ain’t, an’ it’s not whar we wuz but whar 
we ain’t that’s botherin’ ’em.” 

“Still,” said Paul, “the more distance we put between 
them and us the better I, for one, will like it.” 

“You’re right, Paul,” said Shif’less Sol. “I guess 
we’d better shake our feet to a lively tune.” 

They increased their walk to a trot, and fled through 
the great forest. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE OASIS 

T HE five continued their flight all that day, seeing 
no enemies and hearing no further signal from 
them. But Henry knew intuitively that the war- 
riors were still in pursuit. They would spread out in 
every direction, and some one among them would, in time, 
pick up the trail. After a while, they permitted their 
own gait to sink to an easy walk, but they did not veer 
from their northeastern course. Henry, all the time, was 
a keen observer of the country, and he noticed with 
pleasure the change that was occurring. 

They were coming to a low sunken land, cut by many 
streams, nearly all sluggish and muddy. The season had 
been rainy, and there was an odor of dampness over all 
things. Great thickets of reeds and cane began to ap- 
pear, and now and then they trod into deep banks of 
moss. 

“Perhaps we’d better turn to the north and avoid it,” 
said Paul. “This marsh region seems to be extensive.” 
Henry shook his head. 

“We won’t avoid it,” he said. “On the contrary it’s 


hi 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


just what we want. I’m thinking that we’re being 
watched over. You know the forest fire came in time to 
save us, then the falls appeared just when we needed ’em, 
and now this huge marsh, extending miles and miles in 
every direction, cuts across our path, not as an enemy, 
but as a friend.” 

“That is, we are to hide in it?” 

“Where could we find a better refuge?” 

“Then you lead the way, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol. 
“Ef you sink in it we’ll pull you out, purvidin’ you don’t 
go in it over your neck.” 

Henry went ahead, his wary eye examining the ground 
which had already grown alarmingly soft save for those 
trained for such marchings. But he was able to pick out 
the firm places, though the earth would quickly close over 
their footsteps, as they passed, and, now and then, they 
walked on the upthrust roots of trees, their moccasins 
giving them a securer hold. 

It was precarious and dangerous work, but they went 
deeper and deeper into the heart of the great swamp, 
through thickets of bushes, cane and reeds, the soil con- 
tinually growing softer and the vegetation ranker and 
more gloomy. Often the canes and reeds were so dense 
that they had difficulty in seeing their leader, as he slipped 
on ahead. Sometimes snakes trailed a slimy length from 
their path, and, hardened foresters though they were, they 
shuddered. Occasionally an incautious foot sank to the 
knee and it was pulled out again with a choking sigh as 
the mud closed where it had been. Mosquitoes and many 


1 12 


THE OASIS 


other buzzing and stinging insects assailed them, but they 
pressed on without hesitation. 

They came to a great black pond on which marsh fowl 
were swimming, but Henry led around its miry edges, 
and they pressed on into the deeper depths of the vast 
swamp. He judged that they had now penetrated it a 
full two miles, but he had no intention of stopping. The 
four behind him knew without his telling for what he was 
looking. The swamp, partly a product of an extremely 
rainy season, must have bits of solid ground somewhere 
within its area, and, when they came to such a place, they 
would stop. Yet it would be all the better if they did not 
reach it for a long time, as the farther they were from 
the edge of the swamp the safer they could rest. 

No island of firm earth appeared, and the traveling 
grew more difficult. Often they helped themselves along 
with vines that drooped from scrubby trees, swinging 
their bodies over places that would not bear their weight, 
but always, whether slow or fast, they made progress, 
penetrating farther and farther into the huge blind maze. 

The sun was low when they stopped for a long rest, 
hoping they would reach refuge very soon. 

“I don’t think the warriors kin ever find us in here,” 
said Long Jim, “but what’s troublin’ me is whether we’ll 
ever be able to git out ag’in.” 

“Mebbe you wouldn’t be so anxious to show yourse’f, 
Jim Hart, on solid ground ef you could only see yourse’f 
ez I see you,” said Shif’less Sol. You’re a sight, plastered 
over with black mud, an’ scratched with briers an’ bushes. 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Lookin’ at you, an’ sizin’ you up, I reckon that jest now 
you’re ’bout the ugliest man in this hull round 
world.” 

“Ef I ain’t, you are,” said Long Jim, grinning. “Fact 
is, thar ain’t a beauty among us. I don’t mind mud so 
much, but I don’t like it when it’s black an’ slimy. How 
fur do you reckon this flooded country goes, Henry ?” 

“Twenty miles, maybe, Jim, but the farther the better 
for us. Here’s an old fallen log which I think will hold 
our weight. Suppose we stop here and rest a little.” 

They were glad enough to do so. When they sat down 
they heard the mournful sigh of a light wind through the 
black and marshy jungle, and the splash now and then of 
a muskrat in the water. Their refuge seemed dim and 
inexpressibly remote, as if it belonged to the wet and 
ferny world of dim antiquity. But every one of the five 
felt that they were safe, at least for the present, from 
pursuit. 

“We might plough a trail a yard deep,” said Shif’less 
Sol, “but the mud would close over it ag’in in five min- 
utes, an’ Red Eagle with five hundred o’ the best trailers 
in the hull Shawnee nation couldn’t foller us.” 

“It’s strange and grim,” said Paul, “but, when you 
look at it a long time there’s a certain kind of forbidding 
beauty about it, and you’re bound to admit that it’s a 
friendly swamp, since it’s hiding us from ruthless pur- 
suers.” 

“Perhaps that’s why you find the beauty in it,” said 
Henry. “Come on, though. The Shawnees are not likely 


THE OASIS 


to reach us here, but we must find some snug place in 
which we can camp.” 

“After all,” said Paul, “we’re like travelers in a great 
desert looking for an oasis.” 

“We ain’t as hungry ez all that,” said Long Jim. 

“You won’t get angry if I laugh, Jim, will you?” asked 
Paul. 

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead an’ laugh all you want.” 

“An oasis is not something to eat, Jim. It’s a green 
and watered place in an ocean of sand.” 

“Seems to me that we waste time lookin’ fur a place 
that’s more watered than all these we’re crossin’. What 
I want is a dry place, a piece out uv that ocean uv sand 
you’re talkin’ ’bout.” 

“The conditions are merely reversed. My illustration 
holds good.” 

“What did you say, Paul? Them wuz mighty big 
words.” 

“Never mind. You’ll find out in due time. Just you 
pray for an oasis in this swamp, because that is what we 
want, and we want it bad.” 

“All right, Paul, I’m prayin’. I ain’t shore what I’m 
prayin’ fur, but I take your word fur it.” 

Henry rose and led on again, anxious of heart. They 
were well hidden, it was true, in the great swamp, but 
they must find some place to lay their heads. It was im- 
possible to rest in the black ooze that surrounded them, 
and if they did not reach firmer ground soon he did not 
know what they would do. The sun was already low. 


w 

THE EYES OF THE WOODS 

and, in the east, the shadows were gathering. Around 
them all things were clothed in gloom. Even that touch 
of forbidding beauty, of which Paul had spoken was gone 
and the whole swamp became dark and sinister. 

Henry was compelled to walk with the utmost care, 
lest he become engulfed, and finally all of them cut 
lengths of cane with which they felt about in the mire be- 
fore they advanced. 

“Pray hard, Long Jim,” said Paul. “Pray hard for 
that oasis, because the night will soon be here, and if we 
don’t find our oasis we’ll have to stand in our tracks until 
day, and that’s a mighty hard thing to do.” 

“I wuz never wishin’ an prayin’ harder in my life.” 

“I think your prayer is answered,” interrupted Henry, 
who was thrusting here and there with his cane. “To 
the right the ground seems to be growing more solid. The 
mire is not more than a foot deep. I think I’ll venture in 
that direction. What do you say, boys ?” 

“Might ez well try it,” said Shif’less Sol. “It may be 
a last chance, but sometimes a last chance wins.” 

Henry, feeling carefully with the long, stout cane, 
plunged into the slough. He was more anxious than he 
was willing to say, but at the same time he was hopeful. 
As the swamp was due, at least in large part, to the great 
rains, it must have firm ground somewhere, and he had 
noticed also in the thickening twilight that the bushes 
ahead seemed much larger than usual. A dozen steps 
and the mire was not more than six inches deep. Then 
with a subdued cry of triumph he seized the bushes, 

116 


THE OASIS 


pulled himself among them, and stood not more than 
moccasin deep in the mud. 

It’s the best place we’ve come to yet,” he said. “I 
can’t see over the thicket, but I’m hoping that we’ll find 
beyond it some kind of a hill and dry ground.” 

“I know we will,” said Long Jim, confidently. “It’s 
’cause I wished an’ prayed so hard. It’s a lucky thing, 
Paul, that you had me to do the wishin’ an’ prayin’, ’stead 
o’ Shi f ’less Sol, ’cause then we’d hev walked into black 
mire a thousan’ feet deep. Ef the prayers uv the sinners 
are answered a-tall, a-tall, they’re answered wrong.” 

Shif’less Sol shook his head scornfully. 

“Let’s go on, Henry,” he said, “afore Long Jim talks 
us plum’ to death, a thing I’d hate to hev happen to me, 
jest when we’re ’bout to reach the promised land.” 

Henry pushed his way through dense bushes and trail- 
ing vines, and he noticed with intense joy that all the 
time the earth was growing firmer. The others followed 
silently in his tracks. In five minutes he emerged from 
the thicket, and then he could not repress an exclamation 
of pleasure. They had come upon a low hill, an acre per- 
haps in extent, as firm as any soil and well grown with 
thick low oaks. Where the shade was not too deep the 
grass was rich, and the five, the others repeating Henry’s 
cry of joy, threw themselves upon it and luxuriated. 

“It’s fine,” said Shif’less Sol, “to lay here an’ to feel 
that the earth under you ain’t quiverin’ like a heap o’ 
jelly. I turn from one side to the other an’ then back 
ag’in, an’ I don’t sink into no mud, a-tall, a-tall.” 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“An’ this, Paul, is the o-sis that you wuz talkin’ ’bout, 
an’ that I wished an’ prayed into the right place fur us ?” 
said Long Jim. 

“Oasis, Jim, not o-sis,” said Paul. 

“Oasis or o-sis, it’s jest ez good to me by either name, 
an’ I think I’ll stick to o-sis, ’cause it’s easier to say. But, 
Paul, did you ever see a finer piece uv land? Did you 
ever see finer, richer soil ? Did you ever see more splen- 
diferous grass or grander oaks?” 

“I feel about it just as you do,” laughed Paul. 

Henry lay still a full ten minutes, resting after their 
tremendous efforts in the swamp, then he rose, walked 
through their oasis and discovered that at the far edge a 
fine large brook was running, apparently and in some 
mysterious way, escaping at that point the contamina- 
tion of the mud, although he could see that farther on 
it lost itself in the swamp. But its cool, sparkling waters 
were a heavenly sight, and, walking back, he announced 
his discovery to the others. 

“All of you know what you can do,” he said. 

“We do,” said Paul. 

“First thought in my mind,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“An’ we’ll do it,” said Long Jim. 

“Now!” said Silent Tom. 

They took off their clothing, scraped from it as much 
mud as they could, and took a long and luxurious bath in 
the brook. Then they came out on the bank and let 
themselves dry, the night which had now fully come, 
fortunately being warm. As they lay in the grass 

118 


THE OASIS 


they felt a great content, and Long Jim gave it ut- 
terance. 

“An o-sis is a fine thing/’ he said. “I’m glad you in- 
vented ’em, Paul, ’cause I don’t know what we’d a-done 
without this un.” 

Henry rose and began to dress. The others did like- 
wise. 

“I think we’d better eat the rest of Tom’s fish and then 
go to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow morning we’ll have to 
hold a grand council, and consider the question of food, 
as I think we’re very likely to stay in here quite a 
while.” 

“Are you really looking for a long stay ?” asked Paul. 

“Yes, because the Indians will be beating up the woods 
for us so thoroughly that it will be best for us not to 
move from our hiding place. It’s a fine swamp! A 
glorious swamp! And because it’s so big and black and 
miry it’s all the better for us. The only problem before 
us is to get food.” 

“And we always get it somehow or other.” 

They wrapped themselves in their blankets to keep off 
any chill that might come later in the night, lay down 
under the boughs of the dwarf oaks, and slept soundly 
until the next day, keeping no watch, because they were 
sure they needed none. Tom Ross himself never opened 
his eyes once until the sun rose. Then the problem of 
food, imminent and pressing, as the last of the fish was 
gone, presented itself. 

“I think that branch is big enough to hold fish,” said 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Tom Ross, bringing forth his hook and line again, “an’ 
ef any are thar they’ll be purty tame, seein’ that the water 
wuz never fished afore. Anyway I’ll soon see.” 

The others watched him anxiously, as he threw in his 
bait, and their delight was immense, when a half hour’s 
effort was rewarded with a half dozen perch, of fair size 
and obviously succulent. 

“At any rate, we won’t starve,” said Henry, “though it 
would be hard to live on fish alone, and besides it’s not 
healthy.” 

“But we’ll get something else,” said Paul. 

“What else?” 

“I don’t know, but I notice when we keep on looking 
we’re always sure to find.” 

“You’re right, Paul. It’s a good thing to have faith, 
and I’ll have it, too. But we can eat fish for several 
meals yet, and then see what will happen.” 

They devoted the morning to a thorough washing and 
cleaning of their clothing, which they dried in the sun, 
and they also made a further examination of the oasis. 
The swamp came up to its very edge on all three sides 
except that of the brook, and a little distance beyond the 
brook it was swamp again. It would have been hard to 
imagine a more secluded and secure retreat, and Henry 
dismissed from his mind the thought of immediate pur- 
suit there by the Indians. Their present problems were 
those of food and shelter. 

“I think,” he said, “that we ought to build a bark hut. 
There’s a natural site between the four big trees which 


120 


THE OASIS 


will be the corners of our house, and the ground is just 
covered with the kind of bark we want.” 

In the warm sunshine and with a clear sky above them 
they seemed to have no need of a house, but all of them 
knew how quickly the weather could change in the great 
valley. It would be hard to stand a fierce storm on the 
oasis, and one of the secrets of the great and continued 
success of the five was to prepare for every emergency of 
which they could think. 

Long practice had given them high skill, and four of 
them set to work with their tomahawks to build a hut 
of bark and poles, working swiftly, dextrously and mostly 
in silence, while Silent Tom went back to the fishing. 
They toiled that day and at least half the night with 
poles and bark, and by noon the next day they had finished 
a little cabin, which they were sure would hold, with the 
aid of the great trees, against anything. It had a floor of 
poles smoothed with dead leaves, one small window and 
a low door, over which they purposed to hang blankets if 
a blowing rain came. 

Throughout their hard labors they had an abundance 
of fish, but nothing else, and they not only began to long 
for other food, but health demanded it as well. 

“Ef Long Jim Hart offers fish to me, ag’in,” said the 
shiftless one, "I’ll take it an’ cram it down his own 
throat.” 

“And then how’ll you live?” asked Paul. 

“I think I’ll take Long Jim hisself an’ eat him, beginnin* 
at his head, which is the softest part o’ him.” 


121 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“Now that the cabin is done,” said Henry, “maybe we 
can devote some attention to hunting.” 

“Huntin’ in black mud that’ll suck you down to your 
waist in a second?” said Shif’less Sol. 

“I think I might find a pathway on the other side of 
the stream, and this swamp ought to hold a lot of game. 
Bears love swamps, and I might run across a deer.” 

“Would the Indians hear you if you fired?” asked 
Paul. 

“No, we’re too far in for the sound of a rifle to reach 
’em. Still, I won’t start today. I suppose we can stand 
the fish until tomorrow.” 

“We have to stand ’em,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ that 
bein’ the case I think I’ll look ag’in at our beautiful house 
which hasn’t a nail or a spike in it, but is jest held together 
by withes an’ vines, but held together well jest the 
same.” 

“Ain’t it fine?” said Long Jim with genuine admiration. 
“It’s jest ’bout the finest house that ever stood on this 
o-sis.” 

“That, at least, is true,” said Paul. 

They did not sleep in the cabin that night, as they in- 
tended to use it only in bad weather, but made good beds 
on the leaves outside. Shif’less Sol was the first to awake, 
and it was scarcely dawn when he arose. Happening to 
look toward the brook delight overspread his face like 
a sunrise, and laughing softly to himself he took his own 
rifle and Long Jim’s. Then he crept forward without 
noise, and making sure of his aim, fired both rifles so 


122 


THE OASIS 


closely together that one would have thought it was a 
double barreled weapon. 

The four leaped to their feet, and, clearing the sleep 
from their eyes, ran in the direction of the shots. But the 
shiftless one was already walking proudly back toward 
them. 

“What is it, Sol? ,, cried Paul. 

“Only these/’ replied Shif’less Sol, and he held up a fat 
wild duck in either hand. “They wuz swimmin’ in the 
branch, waitin’ to be cooked an’ et by five good fellers 
like us, an’ seein’ they wuz in earnest ’bout it I hev obliged 
’em. So here they are, an’ you, Long Jim, you, you set 
to work at once an’ cook ’em, ’cause I’m mighty hungry 
fur nice fat duck, not hevin’ et anythin’ but fish fur the 
last year or two.” 

“Jest watch me do it,” said Long Jim. “Ain’t I been 
waitin’ fur a chance uv this kind ? While I’m cookin’ ’em 
you fellers will stan’ ’roun’, an’ them sav’ry smells will 
make you so hungry you can’t bear to wait, but you’ll hev 
to, ’cause I won’t let you touch a duck till it’s br’iled jest 
right. Are thar any more whar these come from, Sol?” 

“Not jest at this minute, Jim, but thar wuz, an’ thar 
will be. A dozen jest ez good ez these fat fellers flew away 
when I fired, an’ whar some hez been more will come.” 

“Curious we didn’t think of the wild fowl,” said Henry. 
“We noticed that the swamp had big permanent ponds be- 
sides running water, and it was a certainty that wild 
ducks and wild geese would come in search of their kind 
of food, which is so plentiful in here.” 


123 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“Maybe we can set up traps and snares and catch 
game,” said Paul. “It will save our ammunition, and 
besides there would be no danger that a wandering In- 
dian in the swamp might hear our shots and carry the 
news of our location.” 

“Wise words, Paul,” said Henry. “We must put our 
minds on the question of traps.” 

“But not this minute,” said Long Jim. “Bigger things 
are to the front. Here, you lazy Sol, he’p me clean these 
ducks, an’ Paul, you an’ Tom build me a fire quicker’n 
lightnin\ The sooner you do what I tell you the sooner 
you’ll git juicy duck to eat.” 

They worked rapidly, with such an incentive to effort, 
and soon the savory odors of which Long Jim had boasted 
incited their hunger to an extreme pitch. He did not keep 
them waiting long, and when they were through nothing 
was left of the ducks but bones. 

“It would be better to have bread, too,” said Paul, as 
he sighed with satisfaction, “but since we can’t have it 
we must manage to get along without it.” 

“Mustn’t ask fur too much,” said Silent Tom. 

“Sol,” said Henry, “after we rest an hour or so sup- 
pose you and I set the snares for the ducks and geese. 
Likely no human being has ever been in here before, and 
they won’t be on guard against us. The rest of you might 
do more work on the house. We ought to provide food 
and shelter as well as we can before stormy weather 
comes.” 

While Henry and the shiftless one were busy down the 


124 


THE OASIS 


stream, the other three put more strength into the hut, 
lashing the poles and bark fast with additional tenacious 
withes and feeling all the interest that people have when 
they erect a fine new house. 

“It’s surely a tight little cabin,” said Paul, standing 
off and examining it with a critical eye. “I don’t think a 
drop of rain could get in even in the heaviest storm. 
There, did you hear that?” 

“Yes, a rifle shot,” said Long Jim. “It wuz Henry or 
Sol, but it don’t mean no enemy. They hev got some kind 
uv game that they didn’t expect.” 

The shot was followed in a few moments by a shout of 
triumph, and Henry and Sol emerged from the swamp 
carrying between them a small but very fat black bear. 

“Thar’s rations fur some time to come,” said Long Jim. 
“I guess he wuz huntin’ berries in the swamp when Sol 
or Henry picked him off, an’ I’m shore thar’ll be more 
uv the same kind. It begins to look like a mighty fine 
swamp to me.” 

It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear, and he 
was proud of his triumph, as he had a right to be, having 
secured such a supply of good food, because there was 
nothing better that the forest furnished than fat young 
bear. It did not take experts, such as they, long to clean 
the bear, and cut its flesh into strips for drying. 

“I think our snares will hold something in the morning,” 
said Henry, “and that will be a big help, too. What was 
it you said about the swamp, Jim?” 

“I said it wuz gittin’ to be a mighty fine swamp. First 


125 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


time I saw it I thought it wuz an ugly place, ugliest I 
ever seed, but now it’s growin’ plum’ beautiful. Reckon 
it’s the safest place now in all the wilderness. Knowin’ 
that, helps it a lot, an’ its yieldin’ up good food helps it 
more. The sun is gildin’ the trees, an’ the bushes an’ 
the mud an’ the water a heap, an’ all them things don’t 
hurt my eyes when they linger on ’em.” 

“Jim is turnin’ into a poet,” said the shiftless one, “but 
I reckon he hez cause. I’m gittin’ to feel ’bout the swamp 
jest ez he does. It’s a splendid place, jest full o’ beauty !” 

They slept under the trees again, putting the strips of 
bear meat in the house to secure them from marauders 
of the air, and awoke the next morning to find the swamp 
still improving. Powerful factors in the improvement 
were two ducks and a fat wild goose caught in the snares, 
and, with more fish from Silent Tom, they had a variety 
for breakfast. 

“I jest love wild goose,” said Shif’less Sol, “speshully 
when it’s fat an’ tender, an’ I’m thinkin’ this swamp is 
a good place for wild geese. When we come in here we 
didn’t think what a fine home we wuz findin’. Since the 
tribes an’ the renegades have sworn to wipe us out, an’ 
we’re hid here so snug an’ so tight, I don’t keer how long 
I stay.” 

“Nor me either,” said Long Jim. “This o-sis makes 
me think sure uv that island in the lake on which we 
stayed once, but it’s safer here. Nothin’ but the longest 
kind uv chance would make the warriors find us.” 

“That’s true,” said Henry thoughtfully. “We might 

126 


THE OASIS 


have searched the whole continent, and we couldn’t have 
discovered a better refuge, for our purpose. I know we 
can lie hid here a long time and let them hunt us.” 

Shi f ’less Sol began to laugh, not loud, but with great 
intensity, and his laugh was continued long. 

“What you laffin’ at, you Sol Hyde?” asked Long Jim 
suspiciously. 

“Not at you, Jim,” replied the shiftless one. “I wuz 
thinkin’ ’bout them renegades, Wyatt and Blackstaffe. I 
would shorely like to see ’em now, an’ look into thar faces, 
an’ behold ’em wonderin’ an’ wonderin’ what hez become 
o’ us that they expected to ketch between thar fingers, 
an’ squash to death. They look on the earth, an they 
don’t see no trail o’ ourn. They look in the sky an they 
don’t see us flyin’ ’roun’ anywhar thar. The warriors 
circle an’ circle an’ circle an’ they don’t put their hands 
on us. That ring is tight an’ fast, an’ we can’t break out 
o’ it We ain’t on the outside o’ it, an’ they can’t find us 
on the inside o’ it. So, whar are we? They don’t know 
but we do. We hev melted away like witches. Them 
renegades is shorely hoppin’, t’arin’ mad, but the madder 
they are the better we like it. ’Scuse me, Jim, while I 
lafT ag’in, an’ it wouldn’t hurt you, Jim, if you wuz to 
laff with me.” 

“I think I will,” said Long Jim, and action followed 
word. Later in the day Henry and Paul penetrated a 
short distance deeper into the swamp, but did not find 
another oasis like theirs. The entire area seemed to be 
occupied by mire and ponds and thickets of reeds and 

127 


* +% 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


cane, mingled with briars. They stirred up another black 
bear, but they did not get a chance for a shot at him, and 
they also saw the footprints of a panther. They re- 
turned to the oasis satisfied with their exploration. The 
swampier the swamp and the greater its extent the safer 
they were. 

That night as they slept under the trees they were 
awakened by the rushing of many wings. When they sat 
up they found the sky dark above them, although the 
moon was shining and all the stars were out. It was 
a flight of wild pigeons and they had settled in countless 
thousands on the trees of the oasis. The five with sticks 
knocked off as many as they thought they could use, and 
stored them for the night in the hut. They devoted the 
next day to picking and dressing their spoils, the living 
birds having gone on, and on the following day, Henry, 
who had entered the swamp on another trip of explora- 
tion, returned with the most welcome news of all. He 
had discovered a salt spring only a short distance away, 
and with labor they were able to boil out the salt which 
was invaluable to them in curing their food supply. 

“Now, if we had bread, we’d be entirely happy,” said 
Paul. 

“Shucks, Paul,” said Shif’less Sol with asperity, 
“you’re entirely happy ez it is. Never ask too much an’ 
then you won’t git too little. This splendid, magnificent 
swamp o’ ourn furnishes everythin’ any reasonin’ human 
bein’ could want.” 

Henry shot another black bear, very small but quite fat 
128 


THE OASIS 


and tender, and he was quickly added to their store. More 
wild ducks and wild geese were caught in the snares, and 
they had now been on the oasis more than a week without 
the slightest sign from their foes. Danger seemed so far 
away that it could never come near, and they enjoyed the 
interval of peace and quiet, devoted to the homely busi- 
ness of mere living. 

Then came a day when great mists and vapors rose 
from the swamp, and the air grew heavy. Everything 
turned to a sullen, leaden color. Henry glanced at their 
hut. 

“We have built in time,” he said. “All this heaviness 
and cloudiness foretells a storm and I think we’ll sleep 
under a roof tonight. What say you, Sol?” 

“I shorely will, Henry. Them that wants to lay on 
the ground, an’ take a wettin’ kin take it, but, ez fur me, 
a floor, a roof an’ four walls is jest what I want.” 

“Everybody will agree with you on that,” said Paul. 

No one spoke again for a long time. Meanwhile the 
vapors and mists thickened and the skies became almost 
as black as night. The whole swamp, save the little island 
on which they sat, was lost in the dusk, and a wind, heavy 
with damp, came moaning out of the vast wilderness. 
Thunder rumbled on the horizon, then cracked directly 
overhead, and flashes of lightning cut the blackness. 

The five retreated to their hut, and, with a mighty 
rushing of wind and a great sweep of rain, the storm 
burst over the oasis. 


CHAPTER VII 


INTO THE NORTH 

W HEN the wilderness was under the beat of wind 
or rain or hail or snow Henry and Paul, if 
sheltered well, never failed to feel an increase 
of comfort, even of luxury. The contrast between the 
storm without and the dryness within gave an elemental 
feeling of relaxation and content that nothing else could 
supply. It had been so at the rocky hollow, and it was so 
here. 

Their first anxiety had been for the little house. Be- 
ing built of poles and bark it quivered and trembled, as 
the wind smote it hard, but it held fast and did not lose 
a timber. That apprehension passed, they looked to see 
whether it would turn the rain, and noted with joy in 
their workmanship and pleasure in their security that 
not a drop made its way between the poles and bark. 

These early fugitive fears gone, they settled down to 
ease and observation of the storm, being able to leave 
the door open about a foot, as the wind was driving 
against the back of the house. It was almost as dark as 
night, with gusts that whistled and screamed, and the 


130 


INTO THE NORTH 


rain seemed to come in great waves of water. Despite 
the dusk, they saw leaves torn from the trees and 
whirled away in showers. Every phase and change of 
the storm was watched by them with the keenest atten- 
tion and interest. Weather was a tremendous factor in 
the life of the borderer, and he was compelled to guide 
most of his actions by it. 

“How long do you think it will last, Sol?” asked 
Henry. 

“I don’t see no break in the clouds,” replied the shift- 
less one. “This wind will die after a while, but the rain 
will keep right on. I look for it to last all today, an’ all 
the night that’s cornin’.” 

“I think you’re right, Sol, an’ it’s a mighty big rain, 
too. The whole swamp except our island will be swim- 
ming in water.” 

“But it won’t be no flood, that is, like the big flood,” 
said Long Jim. “But ef one did come I wouldn’t mind 
it much ef we had an ark same ez Noah. Ef you could 
only furgit all them poor people that got theirselves 
drowned it would be mighty fine, sailin’ ’roun’ in an ark 
a mile or so long, guessin’ at the places whar the towns 
hev stood, an’ lettin’ down a line now an’ then to sound 
fur the tops uv the highest mountains in the world.” 

“You wouldn’t hev no time fur lettin’ down lines fur 
mountain tops, Jim Hart,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“An’ why wouldn’t I hev time fur lettin’ down lines 
fur anythin’ I wanted, you lazy Solomon Hyde?” 

“ ’Cause it would be your job to feed the animals, an’ 


THE -#YES OF THE WOODS 


to do it right you’d hev to git up early in the mornin’ an* 
work purty nigh to midnight all the forty days the flood 
lasted. Me an’ Henry an’ Paul an’ Tom would spen’ 
most o’ our time settin’ on the edge o’ the ark with our 
umbrellers h’isted, lookin’ at the scenery, while you wuz 
down in the bowels o’ the ark, heavin’ in more meat to 
the lions an’ tigers, which wuz alius roarin’ fur more.” 

‘‘I wouldn’t feed no animals, not ef every one uv ’em 
starved to death. Besides, what would be the use uv it? 
’Cause when the flood dried up the woods would soon be 
full uv ’em ag’in.” 

“Jim Hart, hevn’t you no sense a-tall, a-tall? Ef all 
the animals wuz drowned, ev’ry last one o’ ’em, how 
could the woods be full o’ ’em ag’in?” 

“Don’t ask me, Sol Hyde. Thar are lots uv things 
that are too deep fur you an’ me both. Now, how did 
the animals git into the woods in the fust place?” 

“I can’t answer, o’ course.” 

“Nor can I, but I reckon they’d git into the woods in 
the second place, which is after the flood, we’re s’posin’, 
jest the same way they did in the fust place, which wuz 
afore the flood, an’ that, I reckon, settles it. I don’t 
feed no wild animals, nohow.” 

“What will the big storm and the deluge of rain mean 
to us, anyway ?” asked Paul. 

“It will help us,” replied Henry promptly. “I’ve been 
worried about all those mists and vapors rising from the 
decayed or sodden vegetation. There was malaria in 
them. Our systems have resisted it, because the life we 


132 


INTO THE NORTH 


lead has made us so tough and hard, but maybe the poi- 
son would have soaked in some time or other. Now the 
flood of clean rain will freshen up the whole swamp. It 
will lay the mists and vapors and wash everything till 
it’s pure/’ 

“An’ it will flood the swamp so tremenjeously, ,, said 
the shiftless one, “that fur days thar will be no girtin' 
in or gittin’ out. Anybody that tries it will sink over 
his head afore he goes a hundred yards.” 

“Which makes us all the more secure,” said Paul. “It 
certainly appears as if the elements fight for us. For a 
week at least we’re as safe here as if we were sur- 
rounded by a stone wall, a thousand feet thick and a 
mile high. And in that time I intend to enjoy myself. 
It will be the first rest in two or three years for us to 
have, absolutely free from care. Here we are with good 
shelter, plenty of food, nothing to do, and, such being 
the happy case, I intend to take a big sleep.” 

He rolled himself in a blanket, stretched his body on 
a bed of leaves, and soon was in slumber. The others 
also luxuriated in a mighty sleep, after their great la- 
bors and anxiety, and the little hut that they had builded 
with their own hands not only held fast against the 
wind, but kept out the least drop of water. The rain, 
true to Shif’less Sol’s prediction, lasted all night, but the 
morning came, beautiful and clear, with a pleasant, cool 
touch. 

The swamp was turned into a vast lake, and they shot 
two deer that had taken refuge from the flood on their 


133 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


oasis. Henry, despite the rising waters, was able to 
reach the salt spring, and they cured the flesh of the 
deer, adding to it a day or two later several wild tur- 
keys that alighted in their trees. They continued to pre- 
pare themselves for a long stay, and they were not at all 
averse to it. Rest and freedom from danger were a rare 
luxury that every one of the five enjoyed. 

Henry’s assumption that the great rain would freshen 
the swamp proved true. All the mists and vapors were 
gone. There was no odor of decaying wood or of slime. 
It seemed as if the place had been cleaned and scrubbed 
until it was like a fine lake. Silent Tom caught bigger 
fish than ever, and they agreed that they were better to 
the taste, although they agreed also that it might be an 
effect of fancy. The island itself was dry and sunny, 
but from their home they looked upon a wilderness of 
bushes, cane and reeds, growing in what was now clear 
water. The effect of the whole was beautiful. The 
swamp had become transformed. 

“It will all settle back after a while,” said Henry 
quietly. 

But a second rain, though not so hard and long as the 
first, filled up the basin again, and they foresaw a delay 
of at least two weeks before it returned to its old con- 
dition. They accepted the increased time with thank- 
fulness, and remained in their camp, doing nothing but 
little tasks, and gathering strength for the future. 

“I should fancy that the warriors would hunt us here 
some time or other,” said Paul. “Shrewd and cunning 


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INTO THE NORTH 


as they are, and missing us as they have, they'd think 
to penetrate it!" 

“It seems so to me," said Henry. “Red Eagle is a 
great chief, and, after he searches everywhere else for us 
and fails to find us, he'll try for a way into this swamp, 
unlikely though it looks as a home." 

“But lookin' at the water an’ the canes, an’ the reeds 
an’ the bushes I've figgered it out that he can’t come fur 
two weeks," said Shif’less Sol, “an’ so I've made up my 
mind to enjoy myse’f. Think o’ it ! A hull two weeks 
fur a lazy man to do nothin’ in ! An’ I reckon I kin do 
nothin’ harder an’ better than any other man that ever 
lived. Ef it wuzn't fur gittin’ stiff I wouldn't move 
hand or foot fur the next two weeks. I’d jest lay on 
my back on the softest bed I could make, an’ Long Jim 
Hart would come an’ feed me three times ev’ry day." 

“I think," said Henry, “we’d better build a raft. It’ll 
help us with both the fishing and the hunting, and with 
plenty of willow withes we ought to hold enough tim- 
bers together." 

The raft was made in about a day. It was a crude 
structure, but as it was intended to have a cruising 
radius of only a few hundred yards, pushing its way 
through strong vegetation, to which the bold navigators 
could cling, it sufficed, proving to be very useful in vis- 
iting the snares and decoys they set for the wild ducks 
and wild geese. The swamp, in truth, now fairly 
swarmed with feathered game, and, had they cared to 
expend their ammunition, they could have killed enough 


135 


THE EYES OF THE, WOODS 


for twenty men, but they preferred to save powder and 
lead, and rely upon the traps, and fish which were 
abundant. 

The skies were very clear now and they watched them 
for threads of Indian smoke which could be seen far, 
many miles in such a thin atmosphere, but the bright 
heavens were never defiled by any such sign. It was 
the opinion of Henry that the main Indian band, under 
Red Eagle, had gone northward in the search, but it 
would be folly to leave the swamp now, since other de- 
tachments had certainly been left to the southward. 
The ring might be looser and much larger, but it was sure 
to be still there, and it was not hard for such as they, 
trained in patience and enjoying a rare peace, to wait. 
Thus the days passed without event, and the five felt 
their muscles growing bigger and stronger for the great 
tasks bound to come. But a curious feeling that war 
and danger were half a world away grew upon them. 
They were in love for a time with peace and all its ways. 
They were reluctant even to shoot any of the larger wild 
animals that wandered through the swamp, and they 
felt actual pain when they slew the wild ducks and wild 
geese caught in their snares. 

“Em bein’ gentled fast,” said Shif’less Sol. “Ef this 
keeps on fur a month or so I won’t hev the heart to shoot 
at any Injun who may come ag’inst me. Ell jest say: 
‘Here, Mr. Warrior, hop up an’ take my skelp. It’s a 
good skelp, a fine head o’ hair an’ I wuz proud o’ it. I 
would like to hev kep’ it, but seein’ that you want it 

136 


INTO THE NORTH 


bad, snatch it off, hang it in your wigwam, tell the 
neighbors that thar is the skelp o’ Solomon Hyde, an’ 
I’ll git along the best I kin without it.’ ” 

“You may feel that way now, Sol,” said Long Jim, 
“but you jest wait till the Injun comes at you fur your 
skelp. Then you’ll change your mind quicker’n lightnin’, 
an’ you’ll reach fur your gun, an’ blow his head off.” 

“Reckon you’re right, Jim,” said the shiftless one. 

Silent Tom stared at them in amazement. 

“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked Paul. “Why do 
you look at them in that manner?” 

“Agreed!” replied Silent Tom. 

“What?” 

“Agreed!” 

“Agreed? Oh, I understand what you mean! Sol 
and Jim hold the same opinion about something.” 

“Yes. Fust time!” 

“Don’t you be worried, Tom Ross,” said Shif’less Sol, 
“I’ll see that it never happens ag’in.” 

“Me, too,” said Long Jim Hart. “You see, Tom, that 
wuz the only time in his life that Sol wuz ever right 
when he wuz disputin’ with me, an’ me bein’ a truthful 
man had to agree with him.” 

Another week passed and the atmosphere of peace 
and content that clothed the great marsh grew deeper. 
The waters subsided somewhat, but it was still impos- 
sible to pass from the oasis to the firm land without, ex- 
cept in a canoe, and that they did not have. Nor was it 
likely that the Indians would produce a canoe merely to 


137 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


navigate a flooded marsh. While sure that none would 
come, all nevertheless kept a good watch for a possible 
invader. 

The weather began to turn cooler and the first fading 
tints appeared on the foliage. It was the time when one 
season passed into another, usually accompanied by 
rains and winds, but they were more numerous than 
usual this year. The strong little hut again and again 
proved its usefulness, not only as a storehouse, but as a 
shelter, although it was so crowded now with stores that 
scarcely room was left for the five to sleep there. The 
skins of the two bears had been dressed and Henry and 
Paul slept upon them, while much of their cured food 
hung from pegs which they contrived to fix into the 
walls. 

As the waters sank still farther, they noticed that the 
swamp was full of life. What had seemed to be a 
waste was inhabited in reality by many of the people of 
the wilderness. The five had approached it from the 
west, and now Henry, who was able to go farther east 
than they had been before, found a small beaver colony 
at a point on the brook, where there was enough firm 
ground to support a little grove of fine trees. 

The beavers had damned the stream and were al- 
ready building their houses for the distant winter. 
Henry, hidden among the bushes, watched them quite a 
while, interested in their work, and observing their 
methods of construction. He could easily have shot two 
or three, and beaver tail was good to eat, but he had no 

138 


INTO THE NORTH 


thought of molesting them, and, after he had seen enough, 
drew off cautiously, lest he disturb them in their pur- 
suits. 

He saw many muskrats and rabbits and also the foot- 
prints of wildcats. A magnificent stag, standing knee 
deep in the water, looked at him with startled eyes. He 
would have been a grand trophy, but Henry did not fire, 
and, a moment or two later, the stag floundered away, 
leaving the young leader very thoughtful. What had the 
big deer been doing in such difficult territory? It would 
scarcely come of its own accord into so deep a marsh, 
and Henry concluded that it must have fled there for 
refuge from hunters, and the only hunters in that region 
were Indians. Then they must still be not far away from 
the marsh ! 

It was such a serious matter and he was so preoccu- 
pied with it that a huge black bear, springing up almost 
at his feet, passed unnoticed. The bear lumbered away, 
splashing mud and water, stopping once to look back 
fearfully at the strange creature that had disturbed it, 
but Henry went on, caring nothing for bears or any 
other wild animals just then. 

When he returned, however, he was bound to take 
notice of the vast quantity of wild fowl in the swamp. 
Every pond or lagoon swarmed with wild ducks and 
wild geese, and hawks and eagles swooped from the air, 
splashed the water, and then rose again with fish in their 
talons. Two big owls, blinking in the light, sat on the 
bough of an oak. Another flight of wild pigeons 


139 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


streamed southward. The life of the swamp was so 
multitudinous that Henry and his comrades could have 
lived in it indefinitely, even without bread. 

When he was back on the oasis he said nothing of his 
meeting with the deer and the significance that he had 
read in it, thinking it not worth while to cause alarm 
until he had something more tangible. Another week, 
and there was a perceptible increase in the autumnal 
tints. All the green was gone from the leaves. Red and 
yellow dyes, not yet glowing, but giving promise of what 
they would be, appeared. The early flights southward of 
more wild fowl, taking time by the forelock, increased, 
and in the minds of some of the five came thoughts of 
leaving the swamp. 

“They must have given up the pursuit by this time,” 
said Paul. “They wouldn’t hunt us forever.” 

“Looks that way to me, too,” said Long Jim. 

Henry shook his head. 

“Some of the warriors have gone away,” he said, “but 
not all of them. Red Eagle, the Shawnee chief, is a 
man who thinks, and a man who holds on. He knows 
that we couldn’t sink through the earth or fly above the 
clouds, and the time will come when he will look into 
this matter of the swamp. It appears to be impenetrable, 
but he will conclude at last that there is a way.” 

“I’m o’ your mind,” said Shif’less Sol. “When you’re 
carryin’ on a war it ain’t jest a matter o’ guns an’ am- 
munition, an’ the lay o’ the land. You’ve got to think 
what kind o’ a gen’ral is leadin’ the warriors ag’inst you. 

140 


INTO THE NORTH 


You must take his mind into account. Ain’t that so, 
Paul? Wuzn’t it true o’ that old Roman, Hannybul?” 

“Hannibal was not a Roman, not by a great deal, Sol, 
as I told you before.” 

“Well, he wuz a Rooshian, or mebbe an Eyetalian. 
What diff’unce does it make? He wuz some kind o’ a 
furriner, an’ ef what you tell us ’bout him is true, Paul, 
as I reckon it is, it wuz his mind that led his men on to 
victory over the Rooshians an’ the Prooshians an’ the 
French an’ the Dutch.” 

“Over the Romans, Sol.” 

“Ez I told you once, Paul, it makes no diff’unce. 
They’re all furriners, an’ all furriners are jest the same. 
Hannybul wuz the kind that wouldn’t give up. You’ve 
talked so much ’bout him, Paul, that I kin see him in 
my fancy an’ I know jest how he done. Often a big 
battle seemed to be goin’ ag’inst him. His men hev 
shot away all thar powder an’ bullets. The Shawnees 
an’ the Miamis an’ the Wyandots are cornin’ on hard, 
shoutin’ the war whoop, swingin’ thar glitterin’ toma- 
hawks ’bout thar fierce heads. The Romans already feel 
the hands o’ the warriors on thar skelps, an’ they are 
tremblin’, ready to run. But Hannybul swings his rifle, 
clubs the leadin’ Injun over the head with it, an’ yells 
to his men : ‘Come on, fellers ! Draw your hatchets an’ 
knives! Drive ’em into the brush! We kin whip ’em 
yet!’ An’ the Romans, gittin’ courage from thar leader, 
go in an’ thrash the hull band. Now, that’s the kind o’ 
a leader Red Eagle is. I give him credit fur doin’ a 


TIJP EYES OF THE WOODS 


power o’ thinking an’ holdin’ on. Braxton Wyatt and 
Blackstaffe will say to him : ‘Come, chief, let’s go away. 
They slipped through our lines in the night, an’ they’re 
somewhar up on the shore o’ one o’ the big lakes, a-laffin’ 
an’ a-laffin’ at us. We’ll go up thar, trail ’em down an’ 
make ’em laff if they kin, a-settin’ among the live coals.’ 
But that Red Eagle, wise old chief that he is, will up an’ 
say: ‘They haven’t got through. They couldn’t without 
bein’ seen by our scouts an’ watchers. An’ since they 
haven’t passed, it follers that they’re somewhar inside 
the ring. So, we’ll jest thresh out ev’ry inch o’ ground 
in thar, ef it takes ten years to do it.’ ” 

Silent Tom looked at him with admiration. 

“Mighty long speech,” he said. “How do you find so 
many words?” 

“Oh, they’re all in the dictionary,” replied the shift- 
less one, “an’ a heap more, too. I’m an eddicated man, 
ez all o’ you kin see, though bein’ jealous some o’ you 
won’t admit it. Thar are nigh onto a million good words 
in the dictionary, an’ ev’ry one o’ ’em is known to me. 
Ev’ry one o’ ’em would reckernize me ez a friend, an’ 
would ask me to use it ef I looked at it, but I’m mighty 
pertickler an’ I take only the best ones. Returnin’ to the 
subject from which we hev traveled far, I think we’d bet- 
ter be on the lookout fur old Red Eagle an’ his Shawnees.” 

“Think so, too,” said Silent Tom. 

Henry announced the next morning that he would 
start at once on a scout, and that he probably would go 
outside the swamp. 


142 


* 



INTO THE NORTH 


"I go with you, o’ course,” said Shi f ’less Sol. 

“I think it best to travel alone.” 

“Why, you couldn’t git along without me, Henry!” 

“I’ll have to try, Sol.” 

“I wouldn’t talk you to death,” said Silent Tom. 

Long Jim and Paul also wanted to go, but the young 
leader rejected them all, and they knew that it was a 
waste of time to argue with him. He started in the 
early morning and they waved farewell to him from the 
oasis. 

Henry was not averse to action. The long period of 
idleness on the island, much as he had enjoyed it, was 
coming to its natural end, and his active mind and body 
looked forward to new events. The swamp had returned 
to the state in which they had found it, and remembering 
the path by which they had come he had no great diffi- 
culty in making his journey. 

Three hundred yards away and the oasis was hidden 
completely by the marshy thickets. He could not even 
see the tops of the trees, and he reflected that it was the 
merest chance that had led them there. It was not 
likely that the chance would be repeated in the case of 
any of Red Eagle’s warriors, and perhaps it would be 
better for all of the five to stay snug and tight on the 
oasis, even if they did not move until full winter came. 
But second thought told him that Red Eagle would surely 
thresh up the swamp. The reasoning of Shi f ’less Sol 
was correct, and it was better to go on and see what 
was being prepared for them by their enemies. 


143 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


His progress was necessarily slow, as he was compelled 
to pick his way, but he had plenty of strength and pa- 
tience, and noon found him near the outer rim, where he 
paused to watch the sky. Henry had an idea that he 
might see smoke, betraying the presence of Indian bands, 
but not even his keen eyes were able to make out any 
dark traces against the heavens, which had all the thin- 
ness and clearness of early autumn. Reflection con- 
vinced him, however, that if Red Eagle were meditating 
a movement against the swamp he would avoid anything 
that might warn its occupants. He abided by his second 
thought, and began anew his cautious progress toward 
the edge of the bushes and reeds. 

The ending of the swamp was abrupt, the marshy 
ground becoming firm in the space of a few yards, and 
Henry, emerging upon what was in a sense the main- 
land, crept into a dense clump of alders, where he lay 
hidden for some time, examining from his covert the 
country about him. He did not see or hear anything 
to betoken a hostile presence, but, as wary as any wild 
animal that inhabited the forest, he ventured forth, still 
using every kind of cover that he could find. 

His course took him toward the east, and a quarter 
of a mile passed, his eye was caught by the red gleam of 
a feather in the grass. He retrieved it, and saw at once 
that it was painted. Hence, it had fallen from the scalp- 
lock of an Indian. It was not bedraggled, so it had 
fallen recently, as the winds had not beaten it about. 
It was sure, too, that a warrior or warriors had gone 


144 


INTO THE NORTH 


that way within a few hours. He searched for the trail, 
stooping among the bushes, lest he fall into an ambush, 
and presently he came upon the faint imprint of mocca- 
sins, judging that they had been made by about a half 
dozen warriors. 

The trail led to the east, and Henry followed it 
promptly, finding as he advanced that it was growing 
plainer. Other and smaller trails met it and merged 
with it, and he became confident that he would soon lo- 
cate a large band. He was no longer dealing with sup- 
position, he had actualities, the tangible, before him, and 
his pulses began to leap in expectation. The shiftless 
one and he had been right. Red Eagle had never left 
the neighborhood of the swamp, and Henry believed 
that he would soon know what the wily old Indian chief 
was intending. There was a certain exhilaration in 
matching his wits against those of the great Shawnee, 
and he knew that he would need to exercise every power 
of his mind to the utmost. He followed the trail steadily 
about a half hour as it led on among trees and bushes, 
and he reckoned that it was made now by at least twenty 
warriors who had no wish to conceal their traces. Pres- 
ently he came to one of the little prairies, numerous in 
that region, and as the trail led directly into it he paused, 
lest he be seen and be trapped when he was in the open. 

But as he examined the prairie from the shelter of the 
bushes, he became convinced that the warriors must have 
increased their speed when they crossed it, and were 
now some distance ahead. At the far edge, two buf- 


145 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


faloes, a bull and a cow, and two half-grown calves, were 
grazing in peace. Two deer strolled from the forest, 
nosed the grass and then strolled back again. The wild 
animals would not have been so peaceful and uncon- 
cerned, if Indians were near, and, trusting to his logic, 
Henry boldly crossed the open. The four buffaloes 
sniffed him and lurched away to the shelter of the trees, 
thus proving to him that they were vigilant, and that he 
was the only human being in their neighborhood. 

He entered the forest again and followed on the broad 
trail, increasing his own speed, but neglecting nothing 
of watchfulness. The country was a striking contrast 
to the great swamp, firm soil, hilly and often rocky, cut 
with many small, clear streams. He judged that the 
swamp was the bowl into which all these rivulets emptied. 

Reaching the crest of one of the low hills he caught 
a red gleam among the bushes ahead of him and he sank 
down instantly. He knew that the flash of scarlet was 
made by a fire, and he suspected that the warriors whom 
he was following had gone into camp there. Then he 
began his cautious approach after the border fashion, 
creeping forward inch by inch among the bushes and 
fallen leaves. It was necessary to use his utmost skill, 
too, as the dry leaves easily gave back a rustle. Yet he 
persisted, despite the danger, because he needed to know 
what band it was that sat there in the thicket. 

A hundred yards further and he looked into a tiny 
valley, where was burning a fire of small sticks, over 
which Indian warriors were broiling strips of venison. 

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INTO THE NORTH 


But the majority of the band sat on the ground in a 
half circle about the fire, and Henry drew a long breath 
when he saw that Red Eagle, the Shawnee chief, was 
among them. Then he no longer had the slightest doubt 
that the hunt was at its full height, that the Shawnees 
were still using every device they knew to destroy the 
five who had troubled them so much. 

Red Eagle was a man of massive features and grave 
demeanor, one of the great Indian chiefs who, their cir- 
cumstances considered, were inferior in intellectual power 
to nobody. Henry watched him as he sat now with his 
legs crossed and arms folded, staring into the flames. 
He was a picturesque figure, and he looked the warlike 
sage, as he sat there brooding. The little feathers in his 
scalplock were dyed red, his leggings and moccasins were 
of the same color, and a blanket of the finest red cloth 
was draped about his shoulders like a Roman toga. He 
was a man to arouse interest, respect and even admi- 
ration. 

Red Eagle did not speak until the strips of meat were 
cooked and eaten and all were sitting about the fire, 
when he arose and addressed them in a slow, solemn 
and weighty manner. Henry would have given much to 
understand the words, as he believed they referred to 
the five and might tell the chief’s plans, but he was too 
far away to hear anything except a murmur that meant 
nothing. 

He saw, however, that Red Eagle was intensely 
earnest, and that the warriors listened with fixed atten- 


147 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


tion, hanging on every word and watching his face. 
Their only interruptions were exclamations of approval 
now and then, and, when he finished and sat down, all 
together uttered the same deep notes. Then eight of 
the warriors arose, and to Henry’s great surprise, came 
back on the trail. 

He recognized at once that a sudden danger had pre- 
sented itself. The Shawnees would presently find his 
trail mingled with theirs, and they were sure to give im- 
mediate pursuit. He thrust himself back into the bushes, 
crawled a hundred yards or so, then rose and ran, curv- 
ing about the fire and passing to the eastward of it. 
Three hundred yards, and he sank down again, listening. 
A single fierce shout came from the portion of the band 
that had turned back. He understood. They had come 
upon his trail, and in another minute Red Eagle would 
organize a pursuit by all the warriors, a pursuit that 
would hang on through everything. 

Henry, knowing well the formidable nature of the dan- 
ger, felt, nevertheless, no dismay. He had matched him- 
self against the warriors many times, and he was ready 
to do so once more. He swung into the long frontier 
run that not even the Indians themselves could match in 
speed and ease. 

It was characteristic of him that he did not turn toward 
the swamp, in which he could speedily have found refuge. 
Instead, wishing to draw the enemy away from his com- 
rades, he offered himself as bait, and fled on the firm 
ground toward the east. 


148 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE BUFFALO RING 

H ENRY, feeling some alarm at first over the dis- 
covery of his trail, soon felt elation instead. He 
was at the very height of his powers. The long 
rest on the oasis had restored all his physical vigor. 
Every nerve and muscle was flexible and strong, as if 
made of steel wire. His eye had never before been so 
clear, nor his ear so acute, and above all, that sixth sense, 
the power of divination almost, which came from a per- 
fect correlation of the five senses, developed to the utmost 
degree, was alive in him. Nothing could stir in the brush 
without his knowing it, and, welcoming the pursuit, the 
spirit of challenge was so strong in him that he threw 
back his head and uttered a long, thrilling cry, the note 
of defiance, just as the trumphet of the mediaeval knight 
sang to his enemy to come to the field of battle. 

Then he continued his flight toward the northwest, not 
too fast, because he wished his trail to remain warm for 
the warriors who followed, but stooping low, lest some 
wanderers from the main band should see him as he ran. 
No answer came to his cry, but he knew well enough 
that the Indians had heard it, and he knew, too, that it 


149 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


filled them with rage because any of the five had been 
bold enough to defy their full power. 

Reaching the crest of one of the low hills in which 
the region abounded, he looked toward the southwest 
and saw the vast maze of the swamp in which his com- 
rades lay hidden. He had not been able to think of any 
plan to turn aside the forces of Red Eagle, but now it 
came to him suddenly. He intended when the pursuit 
ended to be far away from the swamp, and then he could 
rejoin the four at some other point. 

He reached a brook, leaped it and passed on. He 
could have followed the bed of the stream, hiding his 
trail for a space, but he knew the pursuers would soon 
find it again, and after all he did not wish his trail to 
be hidden. He laughed a little as he planted his moc- 
casin purposely in a soft spot in the earth, and noticed 
the deep imprint he left. There was no warrior so 
blind who would not see the trace, and he. sped on, 
leaving other such marks here and there, and finally send- 
ing forth another thrilling note of defiance that swelled 
far over the forest, a cry that was at once an invitation, 
a challenge and a taunt. It bade the warriors to use the 
utmost speed, because they would need it. It asked them 
to pursue, because the one who fled wished to be fol- 
lowed, and so wishing, he did not hide his trail from 
them. He would be bitterly disappointed if they did not 
come. It told them, too, that if they did come, no matter 
how great their speed, the hunters could never catch the 
hunted. 


150 


THE BUFFALO RING 


He stopped two minutes perhaps, long enough for the 
fleetest of the warriors to come within sight. Just as 
their brown bodies appeared among the trees he uttered 
his piercing cry a third time and took to flight again at 
a speed greater than any of theirs. Two shots were 
fired, but the bullets cut only the uncomplaining leaves, 
falling far short. He gained a full hundred yards, and 
then he turned abruptly toward the north. His sixth 
sense, in which this time the supreme development of 
hearing was predominant, warned him that other war- 
riors were coming up from the south. In truth they 
were approaching so fast that they uttered a cry of 
triumph in reply to his own cry, but, increasing his 
speed, he merely laughed to himself once more, knowing 
that he had evaded the trap. His elation grew. His plan 
was succeeding better than he had hoped. One after 
another he was drawing the Indian bands upon his trail, 
and he hoped to have them all. He hoped that Red Eagle 
would lead the pursuit and he hoped that Blackstaffe 
and Wyatt would be there. 

His ear had given warning before, and now it was 
his eye that told him of the menace. He caught a glimpse 
of a flitting figure in the north, and then of two more. 
And so a third band was bearing down upon him, but 
from a point of the compass opposite the second. Any 
one of ordinary powers might well have been trapped 
now, but he yet had strength in reserve, and now he 
put forth an amazing burst of speed that carried him 
well ahead of all three bands. 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Then he entered another low region covered with 
bushes and reeds, and, lest they lose his trail, he took 
occasion, as he fled, to trample down a clump of reeds 
here and a bush there. On the far side of this sunken 
land he came to a creek, in which the water rose to his 
knees, but he forded it without hesitation, and even took 
the time to make a plain trail after he had crossed. 

He knew that the warriors would pursue, in spite of 
every obstacle, and he knew, too, that they would divine 
who it was whom they followed. Using a new burst of 
speed, he widened the gap as he surmised to a full quar- 
ter of a mile. And then he let his gait sink to not much 
more than a long walk, wishing to recover his full phys- 
ical powers. His spirit of elation remained. In very 
truth, he was enjoying himself, and he felt that he could 
lead them on forever. He was even able to note the 
character of the country as he passed, the numerous 
brooks, the splendor of the forest, the brown leaves as 
they fell before the light wind, and then a great patch 
of early blackberries hanging ripe and rich. He paused 
a moment or two, long enough to gather many of the 
berries and eat them, noting that they were the juiciest 
and best he could recall to have tasted. 

Then he came into a country that the animal kingdom 
seemed to have made its own. He could not remember 
having seen anywhere else such an abundance of game. 
Buffaloes, puffing and snorting, ran to one side as he 
crossed the little prairies. Deer, some big and some 
little, sped away through the thickets. Bears, hidden 


152 


THE BUFFALO RING 


in their coverts, gazed at him with curious eyes. Rab- 
bits leaped away in the grass, squirrels ran in alarm out 
on the farthest boughs, and flocks of wild fowl rose with 
a whirr and a rush. 

Henry was so sure of himself, so sure he could not 
be overtaken, that he noted the character of this country 
which seemed to be so much favored by the creatures of 
earth and air. Some time, when all their present dan- 
gers were over, he and his comrades would come back 
there and have a pleasant and peaceful hunt. Doubtless 
it had been neglected a long time by the Indians, who 
were in the habit of using a region for a season or two 
and then of letting it lie fallow until the wild animals 
should forget and come back again. 

He ascended a hill larger and higher than the others, 
and bare, being mostly a stony outcrop. Here he sat 
down in the shadow of a ledge and took long breaths. 
He felt that the pursuit was then fully a mile behind, 
and he could afford to stop for a little while. From 
the lofty summit he saw a great distance. Toward the 
southwest was where the swamp lay, but, despite the 
height, it was invisible now. Behind him was the deep 
forest through which his pursuers were coming, to the 
north lay the same forest, but to the east he caught a 
shimmer of blue through the browning leaves. It was 
so faint that at first he was not certain of its nature, but 
a second look told him it was one of the little lakes 
often to be found in the country north of the Ohio. 

His flight, as he was making it, would take him straight 


153 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


against that body of blue water, impassable to him then, 
and as he drew a deep breath of gratitude he felt that 
he was in truth being watched over by a supreme power. 
If not, why were all the turns of chance in his favor? 
Why had he stopped to rest a moment or two by the 
stony ledge, and why in doing so had he caught a glimpse 
of the lake which soon would have been an insuperable 
bar across his path, enabling the Indians to hem him in 
on either flank? 

He breathed his thanks, and then he lay back against 
the ledge for another minute or two of rest. Near grew 
a dwarf oak, still thick in green foliage, and as if by 
command the wind suddenly began to sing among its 
leaves, and the leaves, as if touched by the hand of a 
master artist, gave back a song. Henry had heard that 
song before. It came to him in his greatest moments 
of spiritual exaltation. Always it was a song of strength 
and encouragement, telling him that he would succeed, 
and now its note was not changed. 

He opened his eyes, sure that his pursuers were not 
yet within rifle shot, and rising, refreshed, passed over 
the hill and into the forest again, curving now toward 
the north. When he was sure he was well hidden by 
the bushes, he ran at great speed, intending to pass be- 
tween the northern wing of his pursuers and the lake. 
They, of course, had known of the water there and were 
expecting to catch him in the trap, and as he ran he 
heard the two wings calling distantly to each other. His 
silent laugh came once more. He had invisible guides 


THE BUFFALO RING 


who always led him out of traps, and he had heard the 
voice that sang to him so often saying this pursuit, like 
so many others, might be long, but in vain. 

Fifteen minutes more, and he caught another view of 
the lake, which appeared to be about two miles long 
and a quarter of a mile across, a fine sheet of water, on 
which great numbers of wild fowl swam, or over which 
they hovered. It was heavily wooded on all sides, and 
had he not seen it earlier it would surely have proved 
an obstacle leading to his capture or destruction. The 
pursuing bands, evidently believing that the trap had 
been closed with the fugitive in it, began to exchange 
signals again, and Henry discerned in their cries the note 
of triumph. It gave the great youth satisfaction to feel 
that they would soon be undeceived. 

Now he called up all the reserves of strength that he 
had been saving for some such emergency as this, and 
sped toward the northeast at a pace few could equal, 
cleaving the thickets, leaping gullies, and racing across 
the open. The lake on his right came nearer and nearer, 
but he was rapidly approaching the northern end, and he 
knew that he would pass it before the band pursuing in 
that quarter could close in upon him. 

Now the critical time came' and he increased his speed 
to the utmost, running through a thicket, passing the 
extreme northern curve of the lake, and entering a wood 
where only firm ground lay before him. The great 
obstacle was passed and he felt a mighty surge of tri- 
umph. He was for the time being primitive and wild. 


155 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


like the warriors who pursued him, thinking as they 
thought, and acting as they acted. Feeling now that he 
was victorious anew, he raised his voice and sent forth 
once more that tremendous thrilling cry, a compound of 
triumph, defiance and mockery. Yells of disappointment 
came from the deep woods behind him, and to hear them 
gave him all the satisfaction he had anticipated. 

He kept a steady course toward the east, not run- 
ning so fast as before, but maintaining a steady pace, 
nevertheless. As he ran he began to think now of hid- 
ing his trail, not in such a manner that it could be lost 
permanently, that being impossible, but long enough for 
him to take rest. However great one’s natural powers 
might be and however severely and often one might 
have been hardened in the fire, one could not run on 
forever. He must lie down in the forest by and by, and 
the time would come, too, when he must sleep. 

He glanced up at the sun and saw that the day would 
not last more than two hours longer. There were no 
clouds and the night was likely to be bright, furnishing 
enough light for the warriors to find an ordinary trail, 
and willing to delude them now he began to take 
pains to make his own trail one that was not ordinary. 
He resorted to all the usual forest devices, walking on 
hard ground, stones and fallen trees, and wading in 
water whenever he came to it, methods that he knew 
would merely delay the warriors, but that could not 
baffle them long. 

He did not hear the bands signaling again and he sur- 


THE BUFFALO RING 


mised that the one on the south would pass around the 
southern end of the lake, reuniting with the other as 
soon afterward as possible. Nevertheless he curved off 
in that direction, and, sinking now to a long walk, he 
went steadily ahead, until the great sun went down in a 
sea of gold behind the forest and night threw a dusky 
veil over the wilderness. Then he stopped entirely, and 
standing against a huge tree trunk, with which his figure 
blended in the night, he took deep breaths. 

At first he felt weakness. No one, no matter how 
powerful and well trained, could run so long without 
putting an immense strain upon the nerves, and for a 
kittle space bushes and trees danced before him. Then 
the world steadied itself, his heart ceased to beat so hard 
and the suffusion of blood retreated from his head. He 
saw nothing nor heard anything of his foes, but he knew 
that the pursuit would not cease. He felt that this was 
his great flight, one that might go on for days and nights, 
in which every faculty he had would be tested to the 
utmost, but he was willing for it to be so. The longer 
the flight continued the further he would draw away 
from the Indian power, and that was what he wished 
most of all. He would make such a fugitive as the 
chiefs had never known before. 

Henry stood a full fifteen minutes beside the brown 
trunk of the tree, of which in the dark he seemed to be 
a part, and so great was his physical power and elas- 
ticity that the time was sufficient to restore all his 
strength. When he thought he caught a glimpse of a 


157 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


bush moving behind him, he resumed the long running 
walk that covered ground so rapidly. An hour later he 
came to a brook, in the bed of which he walked fully a 
mile. But he did not expect this to bother his pursuers 
very long. They would send warriors up and down 
either bank until in the moonlight they struck the trail 
anew, and then they would follow as before. But it 
would give him time, and not doubting that he would 
find some new circumstance to aid him, it came sooner 
than he had expected or hoped. 

Less than half a mile farther he encountered the 
wreckage left by a hurricane of some former season, a 
path not more than three hundred yards wide, a perfect 
tangle of fallen trees, amid which bushes were already 
growing. The windrow led two or three miles to the 
northeast, and he walked all the way on the trunks, 
slipping lightly from tree to tree. It was now late, and 
as the night fortunately began to turn considerably 
darker, he bethought himself of a place in which to 
sleep, because in time sleep one must have, whether or 
not a fugitive. 

As he considered, he heard ahead of him a faint puffing 
and blowing which he knew to come from buffaloes, and 
their presence indicated one of the little prairies in which 
the country north of the Ohio abounded. He made his 
way through the bushes, came to the prairie and saw that 
it was black with the herd. 

The buffalo, although numerous east of the Missis- 
sippi, invariably grazed in small bands, owing to the 

158 


THE BUFFALO RING 


wooded nature of the country, and the present herd, 
four or five hundred at least, was the largest that Henry 
had ever seen away from the Great Plains. As the wind 
was blowing from him toward them, and they showed, 
nevertheless, no sign of flight, he surmised that the 
weaker members had been harassed much by wolves, 
and that the herd was unwilling to move from its present 
place of rest. They shuffled and puffed and panted, but 
there was no alarm. 

He stood a few moments and gazed at them, his look 
full of friendliness. The Indians hunted the buffalo and 
they also hunted him. For the time being these, the 
most gigantic of North American animals, were his 
brethren, and then came his idea. 

A little ridge ran into the prairie, terminating in 
a hillock, and it was clear of the buffaloes, as they 
naturally lay in the lower places. Henry walked down 
among the buffaloes along the ridge until he came to the 
hillock, where he took the blanket from his back, wrapped 
it about him, and reclined with his head on his arm. 
The buffaloes puffed and snorted and some of them 
moved uneasily, but they did not get up. Perhaps Henry 
was wholly a wild creature himself then and they dis- 
cerned in him something akin to themselves, or perhaps 
they had been harassed by wolves so much that they 
would not stir for anything now. But as the human 
intruder lay soundless and motionless, they, too, settled 
into quiet. 

Henry’s friendly feeling for the buffaloes increased, 
159 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


and it had full warrant. He was surrounded by an army 
of sentinels. He knew that if the Indians attempted to 
cross the prairie, coming in a band, they would rise up 
at once in alarm, and if he fell asleep he would be 
awakened immediately by such a multitudinous sound. 
Hence he would go to sleep, and quickly. 

If the buffaloes felt their kinship with Henry, he felt 
his kinship with them as strongly. Since they had sunk 
into silence they were like so many friends around him, 
ready to fend off danger or to warn him. From the 
crest of the low mound upon which he lay he saw the 
big black forms dotting the prairie, a ring about him. 
Then he calmly composed himself for the slumber which 
he needed so much. 

But sleep did not come as speedily as he had expected. 
Wolves howled in the forest, and he knew they were 
real wolves, hanging on the flank of the buffalo herd, 
cutting out the calves or the weak. The big bull buf- 
faloes moved and snorted again at the sound, but, when 
it was not repeated, returned to their rest, all except one 
that lumbered forward a step or two and then sank 
down directly on the little ridge by which Henry had 
come to his hillock, as if he were a rear guard, closing 
the way to the fugitive. He saw in it at once an 
omen. The superior power that was watching over him 
had put the buffalo there to protect him, and, free from 
any further apprehension, he closed his eyes, falling 
asleep without delay. 

Henry always felt afterward that he must have been 
160 


THE BUFFALO RING 


wholly a creature of the wild that night, else the buf- 
faloes would have taker, alarm at his presence and prob- 
ably would have stampeded. But the kinship they 
recognized in him must have endured, or they had been 
harried so much by the wolves that they did not feel 
like moving because of an intruder who was so quiet 
and harmless that he was really no intruder at all. The 
huge bull, crouched across the path by which he had 
come, puffed and groaned at intervals, but he did not 
stir from his place. He was in very truth, if not in 
intent, a guardian of the way. 

And yet, while Henry slept amid the herd, the pursuit 
of him was conducted with the energy, thoroughness 
and tenacity of which the Indians were capable. The 
spirit of the great Shawnee chief, Red Eagle, had been 
stung by his failure to overtake the fugitive, whom he 
knew to be the youth Ware, their greatest foe, and he 
was resolved that Henry should not escape. With him 
now were the renegades Blackstaffe and Wyatt, and 
they, too, urged on the chase. They felt that if Henry 
could be taken or destroyed, the four would fall easier 
victims, and then the eyes of the woods that watched so 
well for the settlers would have gone out forever. 

All through the night the warriors ranged the forest, 
hunting for the trail. The moon and the stars returned, 
bringing with them a light that helped, and an hour or 
two after midnight a Shawnee found traces that led 
toward the prairie. He called to his comrades and they 
followed it to the prairie, where they lost it. The Indian 


161 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


warriors, looking cautiously froir the brush, saw in the 
open the clustered black forms, looming gigantic in the 
moonlight, and they heard the, heavings and puffings 
and groanings of the big bulls. Directly in front of 
them, across a low narrow ridge, lay the biggest bull of 
them all, a buffalo that stirred now and then as if he 
were glad to rub his body against the soil, which was 
rougher there than elsewhere. On the far side of the 
prairie, wolves yapped and barked, longing to get at the 
calves inside the ring of their elders. 

The warriors crept away and began the entire circuit 
of the open, looking for the lost trail. It had entered 
it on the western side, and it would pass out somewhere, 
probably on the eastern. Red Eagle, Blackstaffe and 
Wyatt themselves came up and directed the chase, but 
they were mystified when their runners, completing the 
entire circling movement, reported that there was no 
sign of the trail’s reappearance. Red Eagle, after taking 
thought, refused to believe it. The fugitive had sur- 
passing skill, as all of them knew, but a human being 
could not take a flight through the air, like an eagle or a 
wild duck, and leave no trail behind him. They must 
have overlooked the traces in the moonlight, and he sent 
out the warriors anew, to right and to left. 

Henry meanwhile slept the sleep of one who was 
weary and unafraid. He had not only the feeling, but 
the conviction, as he lay down, that he was within an 
inviolable ring of sentinels, and having dismissed all 
care and apprehension from his mind, he fell into a 


THE BUFFALO RING 


slumber so deep that for a long time nothing could 
disturb it. The yapping and barking of the wolves fell 
upon an unhearing ear. The puffings and groanings of 
the buffaloes were merely whispers to dull him into more 
powerful sleep. When the Indian scouts, not fifty yards 
away, looked at the body of the big bull that blocked 
the path, nothing whispered to him that danger was 
near. Nor was the whisper needed, as the danger passed 
as quickly as it had come. 

He awoke at the first streak of dawn, stirred a little 
in his blanket, but did not rise yet. He saw the buf- 
faloes all around him and realized that his faith in them 
had not been misplaced. The great bull, like a black 
mountain, still barred the path to him. 

It was warm and snug in his blanket and he yawned 
prodigiously. It would have been pleasant to have re- 
mained there a few hours longer, but when one was 
pursued by a whole Indian nation he could not remain 
long in one place. He took the last strips of venison 
from his pack and ate them as he lay. Meanwhile the 
buffaloes themselves began to move somewhat, as if 
they were making ready for their day’s work, and Henry 
wondered at their disregard of him. Perhaps his pres- 
ence for a night, and the fact that he had been harmless, 
removed their fear of him. 

He rose to his knees, and then suddenly sank back 
again. He had caught the gleam of red feathers in the 
forest to the west, and he knew they were in the scalp- 
lock of a Shawnee. Raising his head cautiously he saw 

163 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


several more. It was a small band passing toward the 
north. But he had too much experience to imagine that 
they were chance travelers. Beyond a doubt they were 
a part of Red Eagle’s army, and that army had come up 
in the night and had surrounded him. 

He lay back and listened. An Indian call arose in the 
west and another in the east, and then they came from 
north and south and points between. They were on 
all sides of him and he had been trapped as he slept. 
He saw that the danger was the most formidable he had 
yet encountered, but he did not despair. It was charac- 
teristic of him that when there seemed to be no hope, he 
yet had hope, and plenty of it. His heart beat a little 
faster, but he lay quiet in his blanket, taking thought 
with himself. 

He had been aided before by storms, but there was 
not the remotest chance now of one. The sun was ris- 
ing in the full splendor of an early autumn morning, 
and the thin, clear air had the brightness of silver. The 
blue skies held not a single cloud. Far over his head a 
flock of wild fowl in arrow formation flew southward, 
and for the moment they expressed to him, as he lay 
in the snare, the very quintessence of freedom. But he 
spent no time in vain longings. His eyes came back to 
the earth and that which surrounded him. Once more 
he caught the gleam of feathers in the forest and he was 
sure that the line about the prairie was now continuous. 

He must find a way through that line, and he poured 
all his mind upon one point. When one thinks for life, 

164 


THE BUFFALO RING 


one thinks fast and hard. Stratagem after stratagem 
flitted before him, to be cast aside one after another. 
Meanwhile the buffaloes were stirring more and more, 
and some of them began to nip at the dry grass of the 
prairie, but the big black bull on the little ridge remained 
crouched and motionless. He was not fifteen feet away 
and between him and Henry lay fragments of dead wood 
which had been blown from the forest by some old wind. 
His eyes alighted upon them idly, but remained there in 
interest, and then, in a sudden burst of intuition, came 
his plan. Hesitating not a single instant, he prepared 
for it. 

Henry slid forward, recovered a long dead stick, and 
rapidly whittled from it a lot of shavings. He never 
knew why the buffaloes did not take alarm at his pres- 
ence and actions, but he always supposed that the 
mystic tie of kinship still endured. Then using his flint 
and steel with all the energy and power that imminent 
danger could inspire, he lighted first the shavings and 
then the end of the long stick. 

The buffaloes at last began to puff and snort and show 
alarm, and Henry, springing to his feet, whirled the 
torch in a circle of living fire around his head. The 
whole herd broke in an instant into a frightful panic, 
and with much snorting and bellowing rushed away in 
a black mass toward the east. He threw down his 
torch, and grasping his rifle and throwing his pack over 
his shoulder, followed close upon them, so close that not 
even the keenest eye in the forest could have distin- 

165 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


guished him from the herd in the great cloud of dust 
that quickly rose. 

It was for this cloud of dust that he had bargained. 
The soil of the prairie became dry in the autumn, and 
the tramplings of four or five hundred huge beasts 
churned it into a powder which the wind picked up and 
blew into a blinding stream. Henry felt it in his eyes, 
his nose, his ears and his mouth, but he was glad and 
he laughed aloud in his joy. The rush and bello wings 
of the buffaloes made it a mighty roar, and the soul 
within him was wild and triumphant, as became one who 
was the very spirit and essence of the wilderness. He 
shouted aloud like Long Jim Hart, knowing that his 
voice would be lost in the thunder of the herd and could 
not reach the Indians. 

“On, my gallant beasts!” he cried. “Charge ’em! 
Break their line ! They can’t stand before you ! Faster ! 
Faster!” 

He struck one of them across the body with the butt 
of his rifle, but the herd was already running as fast as 
it could, while the cloud of dust was continually rising 
in greater and thicker volume. In the midst of this 
cloud, and hanging almost bodily to the herd itself, 
Henry was invisible as he rushed on, shouting his battle 
song of triumph and defiance, although no word of it 
reached the warriors who had lain in the brushwood and 
who were now fleeing in fright before the rush of the 
mad herd. 

Mad it certainly was, said Red Eagle, for the chief 
1 66 


THE BUFFALO RING 


himself, with Wyatt and Blackstaffe, had been directly 
in its path, and they had been compelled to run in undig- 
nified haste, while the great pillar of dust, filled with 
the dim figures of buffaloes, crashed and thundered past, 
trampling down bushes, crushing saplings, and driving 
off to the east, the pillar of dust still visible long after 
the buffaloes were deep in the forest. Red Eagle stared 
after it. He was a wise old chief, and he had seen 
buffaloes before in a panic, but he did not understand 
the cause of this sudden and terrific flight. 

“It is strange,” he said, “but we must let them run. 
We will go back now and look for Ware.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE COVERT 

I T was one of the most thrilling moments in the life of 
Henry Ware. He was in a kind of exaltation that 
made him equal to any task or danger, and rather to 
court, instead of avoiding them. His feeling of kinship 
with the herd that was saving him had grown stronger 
with the dawn. The dust entering his eyes and mouth, 
nose and ears, had a singular quality like burned gun 
powder that excited him and stimulated him to efforts far 
beyond the normal. He was for the time being a physical 
superman out of that old dim past, and he was scarcely 
conscious of anything he was doing, save that he ran with 
the great beasts, and was their friend. 

His exalted state increased. He continued to shout to 
the buffaloes to run faster, and to hurl challenge and de- 
fiance at the warriors who could not hear him. Once 
more he swung his clubbed rifle and hit a buffalo on the 
side, not in anger, but as a salute from one hardy friend 
to another, and the buffalo, uttering a bellow, rushed on 
with mighty leaps. 

Although he could not see them for the dust, Henry 
1 68 


THE COVERT 


knew now by the crashing and crackling of boughs that 
they were among the bushes, but they did not trouble him, 
as the herd, like a hugh wedge, first clearing the way 
trampled everything under foot. How long the race 
lasted and how long they ran he never knew, but after a 
lapse of time that was surcharged with an enormous 
elation and an unexampled display of physical power 
the herd began to recover in some degree from its panic. 
Its speed decreased. The great cloud of dust that had 
wrapped Henry around and that had saved him sank fast. 
Then he came suddenly to himself, out of the exalted 
regions of the spirit in which he had been dwelling. His 
throat was sore from excessive shouting and the sting of 
the dust, and it was a few minutes before he was able to 
clear his eyes and see with his usual keenness. Then he 
found that his body, too, ached from his flight with the 
buffaloes and his excessive exertions. 

But he had escaped. Nothing could alter the fact. 
When he had been surrounded so completely by power- 
ful foes that his destruction seemed inevitable a miracu- 
lous way had been opened through their lines. Kindly 
chance had drooped about him an impenetrable veil and 
he had passed his enemies unseen. His first emotion was 
of deep thankfulness and gratitude to the power that had 
saved him. 

The pace of the herd sank to a walk. The light wind 
caught the last streamers of dust and carried them away 
over the trees. Then some of the buffaloes, puffing with 
exhaustion, stopped, and Henry, coming back wholly to 

169 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


himself, turned aside into the deep forest. But he gave 
a parting wave of his hand to the great animals that had 
enabled him to make his invisible flight. Never again 
would he kill a buffalo without reluctance. 

An immense weariness came suddenly upon him. One 
could not run so far with a herd without draining to their 
depths the reservoirs of human endurance, but he would 
not let his body collapse. He knew he must put the dan- 
ger far behind him before it was a danger passed or even 
a danger deferred. Calling upon his will anew, he turned 
toward the southeast and walked many miles through a 
stony region. Here again he felt that he was watched 
over by the greater powers, as leaping from stone to stone 
it was easy to hide his trail, for the time at least. When 
the last ounce of strength was exhausted he came to a 
blue pool, ten or fifteen yards across, clear and deep. 

He looked at the pool and was about to make another 
effort to go on, but the blue waters crinkled up and 
laughed under a light wind, and looked so inviting that 
he concluded to take the risk. He still felt the dust in eye 
and ear, mouth and nose. He knew that it was caked 
upon his face by perspiration, until it had become a mask, 
and now his whole body tingled like fire with the tiny 
particles that had stopped up the pores. And there was 
the pool, clear, blue and beautiful, inviting him to come. 

Delaying not an instant longer he threw off his cloth- 
ing and sprang into the water. It was cold, but it was full 
of life. New strength shot into every vein. He dived 
again and again, but without noise, and then, swimming 


170 


THE COVERT 


about a minute or two, emerged clean, shining and re- 
freshed. While he stretched himself, flexing and tensing 
his muscles and drying his body in the sun, a stag, seeking 
water, came through the forest on the other side of the 
pool. Perhaps that sense of kinship was felt by the stag, 
too. It may be that Henry was in spirit an absolute crea- 
ture of the wild that morning, and by some unknown 
transmission of knowledge the stag knew it. 

However it was, the great deer took no fright, but, 
sniffing the air once or twice, looked at the great youth, 
and the great youth looked back at him. Henry would not 
have harmed any inhabitant of the forest then, and 
the deer may have read it in his eye, as after his first 
hesitation he came boldly to the pool and drank his fill. 
Henry on the other side was dressing rapidly. When the 
stag had drunk enough he raised his head and gazed out 
of great mild eyes at the human being who was perhaps 
the first he had ever seen. Then he turned and stalked 
majestically into the forest, his mighty antlers visible after 
his body was hidden. 

Henry, lying down in the brown grass, remained a half 
hour by the pool, and he became a part of the wilderness, 
recognized as such by the others that dwelled in it. Wild 
fowl descended upon the water, swam there a while and 
then flew away, but not because of him. A! black bear 
made havoc in a patch of berries, and paid no attention 
to the youth. 

When he started anew he still kept to the northeast, but 
he was uncertain about his immediate action. He did not 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


doubt that Red Eagle and his host would pick up his trail 
some time or other, and would follow with a patience that 
nothing could discourage. It would not be wise to turn 
back to the oasis and his comrades, as that would merely 
bring upon them the attack that he had drawn aside. Not 
knowing what to do he kept on in his present course until 
certainty should come to him. 

^Hunger assailed him and, imitating the bear, he ate 
great quantities of berries which were numerous every- 
where in the forest. They were not substantial food, but 
they must suffice for a time. After a while, when he felt 
that he was far beyond the hearing of Red Eagle’s men, 
he would shoot game, though in his present mood he did 
not like to kill anything that lived in the forest. But he 
knew that he must, in time, overcome his reluctance, as 
such a frame as his, in the absence of bread, could not 
live without meat. 

He saw ahead of him a line of blue hills, much such a 
region as that in which lay their warm, stony hollow, and 
he believed that he might find kindred shelter there. At 
least it would be safer from pursuit, and, keeping a 
straight course, he reached the ridges in about two hours. 
He found an abundance of rocky outcrop, so much of it 
that he was able to walk on it a full mile without putting 
a foot on earth, but there was no deep hollow, although he 
did come to a tiny valley or cup among the stones, well 
sheltered from the winds, and here he lay for a long 
time on a bed that he made for himself on dead leaves. 
Toward night he went out and was fortunate enough to 

172 


THE COVERT 


find a wild turkey, which, overcoming his reluctance, he 
shot. Then he cleaned it, and, daring all dangers, lighted 
a fire in the cup and cooked it. 

But before taking a bite of the turkey he made a wide 
and careful circuit about the dip to discover whether 
any wandering warrior had seen the glow of his little 
fire, and, satisfied that none had been within sight, he 
returned and ate, putting what was left in his pack for 
future use. Then he lay down again and felt very grate- 
ful. The stars were out, and, in their courses, they had 
undoubtedly fought for him. He did not ascribe his great 
successes in the face of obstacles that seemed insurmount- 
able to any especial virtue in himself, but the idea that, 
for some unknown cause, he was favored by the greater 
powers was still strong within him. He could but thank 
them and looking up at the sky he did so without words. 

Then, feeling sure that his trail could not be found for 
hours, he wrapped his blanket about his body and pillow- 
ing his head on a heap of leaves fell asleep. The sense 
of watching remained so strong that it was alive while he 
slept, and about midnight it awakened him to see what 
a noise meant. It was, however, only the hungry whin- 
ing of two wolves, drawn by the odor of the turkey, and, 
throwing a stick at them, he went back to sleep. 

He did not awaken again until morning, and then he 
felt so warm and snug in his blanket and on the bed of 
leaves that he was loath to move. The dawn was clear 
and cold, the first frost of the season touching his blanket 
with white, and he yawned mightily. While his body was 


173 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


refreshed, his spirit was not as high as it had been the 
night before, and he would have been glad for the pursuit 
to stop, a day at least, while he dawdled there among the 
hills. He reflected that his four comrades were probably 
lying at their ease in the oasis, and the thought brought 
a certain envy, though the envy contained no trace of 
malice. He wished that he was back with them, but the 
wish vanished in an instant, and he was his old self, in- 
genious, resourceful, resolute. 

He rose from his bed, folded the blanket into the 
usual tight square, which he fastened on his back, and 
took a look at his surroundings. There was no human 
presence save his own, but innumerable tracks showed 
him that the hills were full of game. Then sharp hunger 
assailed him, and he ate another portion of the wild tur- 
key, calculating that enough would be left for several 
more meals. He considered himself extremely lucky in 
securing the turkey, as it undoubtedly would be danger- 
ous now to fire his rifle, since the warriors must have 
come much nearer in the course of the night. 

Going to the crest of the highest hill, whence he could 
get a long view, he saw smoke in the west, not more than 
three miles away, and he was quite certain it was made 
by some portion of Red Eagle’s band. They would not 
allow so much smoke to rise, unless it was intended as a 
signal, and his eyes followed the circle of the horizon in 
search of the answer. 

From his lofty perch he saw far over the tumbled mass 
of hills to the eastern sky, and there he caught a faint 


174 


THE COVERT 


trace across the sunlit blue. It was miles away and only 
eyes of the keenest, like his, would have noticed the vague 
smudge, but he did not doubt that it was a response to 
the first signal. They could not see from the first to the 
third smoke, but there must be a second in between, prob- 
ably to the north, where the hills shut out his view, 
and the messages were transmitted from the extremes 
through it. 

He gazed a long time at the eastern smoke, trying to 
read what it was saying. The warriors of Red Eagle’s 
band were not likely to have gone so far in the night, and, 
at last, he came to the conclusioa that Yellow Panther 
and the Miamis had come up. The more he thought about 
it the more thoroughly he was convinced that it was so, 
and that his situation had become extremely dangerous 
again. The Shawnees were bound to pick up his trail in 
time, they would find that it led into the hills, and then, 
by means of signals of one kind or another, they would 
tell their allies, the Miamis, to close in on him. They 
would also send warriors to both north and south, and 
he would be surrounded completely. 

Henry did not despair. It was characteristic of him 
that his spirits should rise to the highest when the danger 
was greatest. The lassitude of the soul that he had felt 
for a few moments disappeared and once more he was 
alert, powerful, with all his marvelous senses attuned, 
and with that sixth sense which came from the perfect 
coordination of the others ready to help him. 

He examined as well as he could/ from his summit the 


175 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


maze of hills in which he stood, and it seemed to him to 
be a region three or four miles square, a network of 
crests, ridges, cups, and narrow valleys like ravines. He 
resolved that for the present, at least, he would make no 
attempt to break from it and pass the Indian lines. He 
would be for a day or two the needle in the haystack. 
One might move from cover to cover and evade pursuit 
for a long time in a tumbled and tangled mass of country 
fifteen or sixteen miles square, covered moreover with 
heavy vegetation of all kinds. 

He had been the panther before, now he would be the 
fox, and leaping from stone to stone, and from fallen 
trunk to fallen trunk he plunged into the very heart of 
the maze, finding it wilder and even more broken than he 
had hoped. Small streams were flowing in several of the 
gullies or ravines, and there were pools, around which 
reeds and bushes grew thickly. At least he would not 
sutler for water while he lay in hiding. 

Near the center of the little wilderness was a valley 
larger than the others, but before he descended into it 
he climbed a hill, and took another long look around 
the whole horizon. The smoke signals had increased to 
nearly a dozen, making a complete circuit of the hills, 
and it would have been obvious, even to an intelligence 
much less acute than his, that they were sure he was in 
the hills, and had drawn their lines about him. 

Well, it would be a chase, he said to himself grimly. 
He did not particularly like the role of fox, but once he 
had undertaken it he would play it to the last detail. He 

176 


THE COVERT 


went down into the valley which was like a bowl filled 
with a vast mass of bushes and briars, many of the briars 
covered with ripe berries, a fact of which he made a 
mental note, as he might need those berries later on, and 
picked a way through them until he came to the other 
slope, which was as rough and broken as if it had been 
taken up by an earthquake, shaken for several days, and 
then allowed to lie as the pieces fell. There were many 
blind openings, like the box canons of the west, running 
back into the hills, and they were crossed by other gullies 
and ravines, and he decided that he would find a tempo- 
rary covert somewhere among them. 

As he wandered about in the maze of bushes and stones, 
he did not neglect the least possible precaution to hide all 
traces of footsteps, and he knew that he had left a trail 
invisible like that of a bird through the air. There were 
many able warriors among the Shawnees and Miamis, 
but if they found him at all it must be by currying the 
maze as if with a comb, and not by following directly in 
his path. 

A ravine that he was following led a little distance up 
the slope, and then another crossed it at right angles. A 
small stream, rising above, flowed down the first ravine, 
and he resolved that he would not go far from it, as he 
could not lie long in hiding without water. The smaller 
cross ravine, which was pretty well choked with briars 
and bushes, ended under an overhanging stony ledge, and 
here he stopped. 

As the place had a floor of dead leaves and was 
177 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


sheltered well he thought it likely that in some former 
time it had been a den of a large wild beast, but it could 
not have been put to such an use recently, as there was 
no odor. He was thankful that he had found the ledge. 
It would protect him from any rain except one driven 
fiercely into the face of it by the wind, and, if it came 
to the last resort and he had to make a fight, it would 
prove a formidable little fortress. 

Having located his refuge he went back to the stream 
and took a long, deep drink of the water, which was cold 
and good. Then he returned to the ledge and lay down 
in its shadow, his eyes on the briars and bushes, through 
which alone one could approach. 

He saw a few coarse hairs in the crevices of the rocks 
and he was confirmed in his opinion that it had once been 
a lair. Perhaps the original owner would return to it and 
claim it while he was there, and Henry smiled at the 
thought of the meeting. It would not be easy to displace 
him. The feeling that he too was wild, a creature of the 
forest, was growing upon him. He was hunted like one 
and he began to display their characteristics, lying per- 
fectly still, facing the opening and ready to strike, the 
moment a foe appeared. However dangerous may have 
been the wild beast that once lived under the ledge it was 
far less formidable than its successor. 

Henry was at his ease, watching the briars and bushes 
and with his rifle thrust forward a little, but a sort of 
cold rage grew upon him. It was the rage that a fierce 
animal must feel, when hunted beyond endurance, it turns 

i 7 8 


THE COVERT 


at last. He rather hoped that one or two of their scouts 
would appear and try to force the ravine. They would 
pay for it richly, and he would take some revenge for 
being forced into such a hard and long flight. 

But no scalp lock appeared in the bushes, nor did he 
hear any sound of advancing men. But he was not de- 
ceived by the false appearance of peace. The Shawnees 
and Miamis had drawn their lines about the hills and 
they would search until they found. Now they had two 
great chiefs instead of one, both Red Eagle and Yellow 
Panther, to drive them on. Meanwhile he would wait 
patiently and take his ease until they did find him. 

He was conscious of the passage of time, but he took 
little measure of it until he noticed that the sun was low. 
Then he ate another portion of the turkey, rolled himself 
into a new position on the leaves, and resumed the patient 
waiting which was not so hard for one trained as he had 
been in a school, the most important rule of which was 
patience. 

The entire day passed. At times he dozed, but so 
lightly that the slightest movement in the thickets would 
have awakened him. He was neither lonely nor afraid, 
and his sense of comfort grew. He had been carried back 
farther than he knew into the old primitive world, in 
which shelter and ease were the first of all things. He 
was content now to wait any length of time while the 
warriors searched for him, and he was so still, he blended 
so thoroughly into his surroundings, that the other peo- 
ple of the maze accepted him as one of themselves. 


179 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


He saw a splash of flame over his head, and a scarlet 
tanager, alighting on a bush not a yard from him, prinked 
and preened itself, until it felt that its toilet was perfect, 
when it deliberately flew away again. It had not shown 
the slightest fear of the motionless youth, and Henry was 
pleased. He intended no harm to the creatures of the 
forest then, and he was glad they understood it. 

A small gray bird, far less brilliant in plumage than 
the tanager, alighted even nearer, and poured forth a 
flood of song to which Henry listened without moving. 
Then the gray bird also flew away, not in fear, but be- 
cause its variable mind moved it to do so. It too had 
come as a friend and it departed without changing. A 
rabbit hopped through the brush, stared at him a moment 
or two, and then hopped calmly out of sight. Its visit 
had all the appearance of a friendly nature, and Henry 
was pleased once more. 

When the twilight came, he crept through the bushes to 
the little stream in the ravine and drank deep again. His 
glance caught a pair of red eyes gleaming through the 
dusk and he saw a wildcat treading lightly. But the cat 
did not snarl or arch its back. Instead it moved away 
without any sign of hostility and climbed a big oak, in 
the brown foliage of which it was lost to Henry’s sight. 
In his mind the thought grew stronger that he was being 
accepted as a brother to the wild, and it gave him a thrill, 
a compound of pleasure and of wonder. Had he really 
reverted so far? It seemed to be so, for the time, at least. 

He crawled back through the bushes to his lair, ate 

180 


THE COVERT 


another portion of the wild turkey and disposed his lodg- 
ings for the night, which he foresaw was going to be 
cold, drawing the dead leaves into a heap with a depres- 
sion in the center, in which he could lie with the blanket 
over him. 

The full dark had now come, and, as he finished his 
bed, he heard a light step which caused him to seize his 
rifle and sit silent, awaiting a possible enemy. The light 
step was repeated once, twice, thrice, and then stopped. 
But he knew it was not that of a human being. He had 
heard the pad, pad of an animal too often to be mistaken, 
and his tension relaxed, though he still waited. 

He gradually made out an ungainly figure in the dusk, 
and then two small red eyes. The figure moved about a 
little and the eyes seemed to question. Henry smiled once 
more to himself. It was a large black bear, and he knew 
instinctively that it had not come as an enemy. Its visit 
was one of inquiry, perhaps of search for an old and 
comfortable home, which it remembered dimly. As it 
stared at him, showing no sign of fright and making no 
movement to run away, he knew then that he was in truth 
in a former home of the bear. 

He was sorry that he had dispossessed any one. He 
would not willingly keep from his home a friendly and 
worthy black bear, but since it was the only home of the 
kind he needed that he could find, he must keep his place. 
The bear was not hunted as he was, and required less to 
give him comfort and shelter. He could improvise else- 
where a home that would suffice for him. 

181 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


He waved his hand, but the bear did not withdraw, 
uttering instead a low growl which had some of the 
quality of a purr, and which was not at all hostile. Henry 
felt real grief at ousting such an amiable animal, and he 
realized anew that he had become, in fact, a creature of 
the wild. It was obvious that the bear looked upon him 
as a brother, else it would have taken to hasty flight long 
since. Instead it continued to stare at him, as if asking 
to come in that it might have a share of the leaves. But 
Henry shook his head. There was room for only one, 
and while not selfish he needed it worse than the bear, 
which, after a minute more of gazing, uttered another 
growling purr and then shambled away among the bushes. 
Henry felt real sorrow at its departure. Obviously it 
had been a good and kind bear, and he was regretful at 
having crowded it out of house and home. 

But as bears were adaptable creatures and the dispos- 
sessed tenant would find quarters elsewhere, he settled 
himself back to further rest and contemplation. The 
lair under the ledge was really a better place than he had 
at first thought it. The leaves were so abundant that he 
had a soft bed, and they contributed not only to warmth 
in themselves, but he was able to throw them up in 
little ridges beside him, where they would cut off the 
cold air. He felt himself splendidly hidden, and both 
body and mind were invaded by a dreamy sense of peace 
and ease. 

Believing that the invasion of the valley would yet be 
delayed some time, he dared to go to sleep, though he 

182 


THE COVERT 


awoke at frequent intervals. All these awakenings told 
him that the warriors had not yet come nor was their 
vanguard even at hand. The bear was not the only wild 
animal to inhabit the valley and now and then he saw 
their dim figures moving in the leisurely manner that 
betokened no alarm brought by sight, scent or sound. He 
silently made them his sentinels, his watchers, the bear, 
the rabbit, the squirrel, the wildcat and even the tawny 
yellow panther. 

Morning broke, the air heavy and clouds betokening 
rain. He strengthened his banks of leaves with some 
dead wood, and, after eating half the remaining por- 
tion of wild turkey, crouched again in the lair. In an 
hour it began to rain, not to the accompaniment of 
wind, but came down steadily, as if it meant to fall all 
day long. 

Having a good shelter Henry was glad of the rain, as 
he knew that it would cause the warriors further delay 
in the search. The wilderness, cold and dripping with 
water, is a funereal sight, full of discomforts, and sav- 
age man himself avoids it if he can. The warriors, feel- 
ing that they had the fugitive within the inescapable cir- 
cle, would wait. Henry would willingly wait with them. 
He had but one problem that troubled him greatly, and 
it was food. But perhaps the ravens would provide, as 
they had provided for the holy man in the olden time. 

As he had foreseen, the chilling rain fell all day long, 
and no sign came from his pursuers. The valley grew 
sodden. He saw pools standing in low places, and cold 

183 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


vapors arose. At night he ate the last of the turkey, and, 
resolutely dismissing the question of more food from his 
mind for the time, fell asleep again and slept well. 

The second dawn came, clear and cool, and the foliage 
and the earth dried rapidly under the bright sun. Henry’s 
powerful frame craved breakfast but there was none, and, 
from necessity, he made up his mind to do without, as 
long as he could. But the cravings became so strong by 
noon that he stole out to the blackberry briars and ate 
his fill of the berries. He also found some ripening wild 
plums and ate those, too. Fruit alone was not very stay- 
ing and he also saw the risk of disclosing his trail, but 
he felt that he must have it. One might talk lightly of 
enduring hunger, but to endure it was much harder. If 
he only had two or three more wild turkeys he felt that 
he might defy the siege. 

That afternoon he heard the signals of Indians, show- 
ing that they were in the maze, looking for him. They 
imitated the cries of birds and animals, but they did not 
deceive him a single time. None was nearer than a quar- 
ter of a mile, and he was sure that they had a long hunt 
before them. Then he resolved upon a daring venture. 
If the coming night was dark he would make the Indians 
themselves provide him with food. It was tremendously 
risky, but the kind of life he lived was full of such 
risks. 

His plan in mind, he watched the setting of the sun. 
It had mists and vapors around it, and he knew that he 
was about to have what he wished. Then the night set- 

184 


THE COVERT 


tied down, heavy and dark, and he slipped cautiously from 
his lair. The last signal that he had heard came from the 
south and he advanced in that direction. 

He calculated that boldness, as usual, might win. The 
warriors, daring themselves, nevertheless would not 
dream of an inroad upon them by the fugitive himself, 
and were likely to be careless in their night camp. It 
was possible that they would leave their own food where 
he could reach it unseen. 

His progress was slow, owing to the extremely rough 
and broken nature of the ground, and his own great cau- 
tion, a caution that made no sound, and that left no trail, 
as he always walked on rock. In an hour he saw the 
glimmer of a fire, and then he redoubled his caution, as 
he approached. 


CHAPTER X 


THE BEAR GUIDE 

T HE fire was just beyond the thicket of reeds, and 
Henry addressed himself to the task of penetrat- 
ing them without noise, a difficult thing to do, but 
which he accomplished in about five minutes, stopping 
just short of the outer edge, where he was still hidden 
well. 

He was then able to see a small opening in which 
about a dozen warriors lay around a low fire, with two 
who were sentinels sitting up but nodding. He saw by 
their paint that they were Miamis, and thus he was con- 
firmed in his belief that Yellow Panther had come with a 
large force from his tribe. 

He knew that the sentinels had been set largely as a 
matter of form, since the Indians in the bowl itself would 
not anticipate any attack from a lone fugitive. The true 
watch would be kept on the outermost rim. So reason- 
ing he waited, hoping that the two sentinels who were 
nodding so suggestively would fall asleep. Even as he 
looked their nods began to increase in violence. Their 
heads would fall over on their shoulders, hang there for 

1 86 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


a few moments and then their owners would bring them 
back with a jerk. 

Indians, like white people, have to sleep, and Henry 
knew that the two warriors must have been up long, else 
they would not have to fight so hard to keep awake. 
That they would yield before long he did not now doubt, 
and he began to watch with an amused interest to see 
which would give in first. One was an old warrior, the 
other a youth of about twenty. Henr^ believed the lad 
would lead the way, and he was justified in his opinion, 
as the younger warrior, after bringing his head back into 
position two or three times with violent jerks, finally let 
it hang, while his chest rose with the long and deep 
breathing of one who slumbers. The older man looked 
at him with heavy-laden eyes and then followed him to 
the pleasant land of oblivion. 

Henry now examined the camp with questioning eyes. 
In such a land of plentiful game they would be sure to 
have abundant supplies, and he saw there a haunch of 
deer well cooked, buffalo meat, two or three wild tur- 
keys and wild ducks. His eyes rested longest on the 
haunch of the deer, and, making up his mind that it 
should be his, he began to creep again through the un- 
dergrowth to the sheltered point that lay nearest it, a 
task in which he exercised to the utmost his supreme 
gifts as a stalker, since these were the most critical mo- 
ments of all. 

The haunch fay not more than eight feet from the 
reeds, and he believed he could reach it without awaken- 

187 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


in g any of the warriors. Once the older sentinel opened 
his eyes and looked around sleepily, and Henry instantly 
stopped dead, but it was merely a momentary return 
from slumberland, to which the man went back in a sec- 
ond or two, and then the stalker resumed his slow 
creeping. 

At the point he sought, he slipped noiselessly into the 
open, seized the haunch and slid back in the same way, 
stopping in the shelter of the reeds to see if he had been 
noticed. But all the warriors still slept, and, thankful 
once more to the greater powers who had favored him, 
he made his way back to his shelter, provisioned now 
for several days. Then he ate a hearty supper, gath- 
ering more of the berries as a sauce, and drinking from 
the little stream. 

He was well aware that the Indians, when they missed 
the haunch, would know that he lay somewhere in the 
bowl; but, with starvation as the alternative, he was 
compelled to take the risk. Before dawn, it rained 
again, removing all apprehensions that he may have felt 
about his trail, and he took a nap of two or three hours, 
relying upon his heightened senses to give him an alarm, 
if they drew near, even while he slept. 

The next dawn came, cold and raw, with the rain 
ceasing after a while, but followed by a heavy fog that 
filled the whole bowl. Henry, sharp as his eyes were, 
could not see twenty feet in front of him, and, just like 
the bear that had once occupied it, he lay very close in 
his lair. The confinement was growing irksome to one 

1 88 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


of his youth and strength, as he felt his muscles stiffen- 
ing, but it was necessary, because he heard the signals 
of the Indians to one another through the fog, some- 
times not more than two or three hundred yards away. 
Their proximity, he knew, was due to chance, as there 
was nothing to disclose to them where he lay. They 
were merely following the plan of threshing out all the 
hay in the haystack in order to find the needle, and he 
knew that they would complete it even to the last wisp. 

Another day and night passed in the lair, and the in- 
activity, confinement and suspense became frightful. He 
began to feel that he must move, even if he plunged di- 
rectly into the Indian ranks, and the warriors permitted 
no doubt that they were near, since the calls of birds 
and animals were frequent. Two or three times he heard 
shots, and he knew it was the warriors killing game. He 
resented it, as all the animals in this little valley had 
proved themselves his friends, and he felt an actual 
grief for those that had been slain. 

It was the truth that in these days of hiding and 
waiting Henry was reverting to some ancient type, not 
one necessarily ruder or more ferocious, but a primitive 
golden age in its way, in which man and beast were 
more nearly friends. There was proof in the fact that 
birds hopped about within a foot or two of him and 
showed no alarm, and that a rabbit boldly rested among 
the leaves not a yard away. 

It would be, in truth, his happy valley were it not for 
the presence of the Indians. But they were drawing 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


nearer. Call now answered to call, and they were only 
a few hundred yards away. He divined that they had 
threshed up most of the maze, and that a close circle was 
being drawn about him in the bowl. The next night, 
when he went out for water, he caught a glimpse of war- 
riors stalking in the brush, and he did not believe that 
his lair would hide him more than a day or two longer. 
He must find some way to creep through the ring, but, 
for the present, he could think of none. 

Another day passed, and he did not sleep at all in the 
night that followed, as the warriors were so near now 
that his keen ear often heard them moving, and once 
the sound of the men talking to one another came to 
him distinctly. It was obvious that he must soon make 
his attempt to break through the ring. Fortunately the 
night was foggy again, and while he was deliberating 
anew, concentrating all the power of his mind upon the. 
attempt to find a plan, he heard a faint rustle in the 
thicket directly in front of him, and he instantly threw 
his rifle forward, sure that the warriors were upon him. 
Instead, a shambling figure poked its head through the 
thicket and looked curiously at him out of little red eyes. 

It was the black bear that he had ousted, and Henry 
thought he saw sympathy as well as curiosity in the red 
eyes. The bear, far from upbraiding him for driving 
it from its home, had pity, and no fear at all. He could 
not see any sign of either alarm or hostility in the red 
eyes. The gaze expressed kinship, and his own was 
reciprocal. 


190 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


“I hope the warriors won’t get you, but you’re running 
a mighty big risk,” was his thought. Then came a sec- 
ond thought quick upon the heels of the first. How had 
the bear come through the ring of the warriors? Had 
the Indians seen it they would certainly have shot at it, 
because they loved bear meat. Not only had no shot 
been fired, but the bear was deliberate and free from 
apprehension. Then like lightning came a third thought. 
The bear had come in some providential way to save him. 
It had been sent by the greater powers. 

There was something almost human in the gaze of the 
bear and Henry could never persuade himself afterward 
that its look did not have understanding. It began to 
withdraw slowly through the thicket, and, rising up, tak- 
ing his rifle, blanket and supplies, he followed. A strange 
feeling seized him. He was transported out of himself. 
He believed that the miraculous was going to happen. 
And it happened. 

The bear led ten or fifteen feet ahead, and then turned 
sharply to the right, where apparently it would come up 
dead against the blank stone wall of the hill. But it 
turned to look once at Henry and disappeared in the 
wall. He stood in amazement, but followed nevertheless. 
Then he saw. There was a narrow cleft in the stone, 
the entrance to which was completely hidden by three or 
four bushes growing closely together. The wariest eye 
would have passed over it a hundred times without see- 
ing it, but the bear had gone in without hesitation, and 
now Henry, parting the bushes, went in, too. 


191 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


He found a ravine not more than three feet wide that 
seemed to lead completely through the hill. The foliage 
met above it, and it was dark there, but he saw well 
enough to make his way. He could also trace the dim 
figure of the bear shambling on ahead, and his heart made 
a violent leap as he realized that in very truth and fact 
he was being led out of the Indian ring. Chance or 
intent? What did it matter? Who was he to question 
when favors were showered upon him? It was merely 
for him to take the gifts the greater powers gave, 
and, with voiceless thanks, he followed the lead of the 
animal which shambled steadily ahead. 

The narrow ravine, or rather crack in the stone, might 
have ended against a wall, or it might have led up to the 
crest of the hill where Indian warriors lay watching, 
but he knew that it would do neither. He felt with all 
the certainty of actual knowledge that it would go on 
until it came out on the far side of the circling hills, and 
beyond the Indian ring. 

He walked a full mile, his dumb guide leading faith- 
fully. Sometimes the ravine widened a little, but always 
the foliage met overhead, and he was never able to catch 
more than glimpses of the sky. At last the width in- 
creased steadily, and then he came out into the forest 
with the hills behind him. The form of the bear was 
disappearing among the trees, but Henry sent after him 
his voiceless thanks. Again he felt that he could not 
question whether it was chance or intent, but must accept 
with gratitude the great favor that had been granted to 


192 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


him. Behind him, as reminders, came from far across 
the hills the faint calls of wolf and owl, the cries of the 
Indians to one another, as the chiefs directed the clos- 
ing in of the ring upon the fugitive who was no longer 
there, the fugitive who had been guided in a miraculous 
manner to the only way of escape. 

He sat down upon a fallen tree trunk, laughing silently 
at the chagrin his pursuers would feel when they came 
upon the lair, the empty lair. Braxton Wyatt would 
rage, Blackstaffe would rage, and while Red Eagle and 
Yellow Panther might not rage openly, they would burn 
with internal fire. Then his laughter gave way to far 
more solemn feelings. Who was he to laugh at two 
great Indian chiefs who certainly would have taken or 
slain him had it not been for the intervening miracle ? 

Henry’s heart was filled with admiration and grati- 
tude. He had been a friend for a day or two to the 
beasts of the forest and one of them had come to his 
rescue. The feeling of reversion to a primitive golden 
age was still strong within him, and doubtless the bear, 
too, had really felt the sense of kinship. He looked in 
the direction in which the shambling animal had gone, 
but there was no sign of him. Perhaps he had disap- 
peared forever, because his mission was done. 

Again came the calls of animals to one another, the 
cries of the owl and wolf, and then their own natural 
voices, in which Henry now, in fancy or in fact, detected 
the note of chagrin. They had found the lair at last, 
and they had found it empty! A long yell, fiercer than 


193 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


any of the others, confirmed him in the belief, and 
despite the solemnity of his own feelings at such a time, 
when he had been saved in such a manner, he was com- 
pelled to laugh silently, but with intense enjoyment. 

Then he addressed himself to his new problems. Be- 
cause he had escaped with his life, it did not mean that 
his troubles were ended. The warriors would come 
quickly out of the maze and Red Eagle and Yellow 
Panther, with the host at their command, would send 
innumerable scouts and trailers in every direction to find 
his new traces. It would be with them not only a ques- 
tion of removing their enemy, but a matter of pride as 
well, and they were sure to make a supreme effort. 

It was his knowledge of the minds of the chiefs that 
had kept him from turning back to the oasis and his 
comrades. To return would be merely to draw a fresh 
attack upon them, and he resolved to continue his flight 
to the northeast. It was characteristic of him that he 
should not be headlong, exhausting himself, but he sat 
down calmly, ate a slice of the deer meat, and waited 
until he should hear the Indian signals again. They 
came presently from the segment of the circling hills 
nearest to him, and he knew that the pursuit had beem 
organized anew and thoroughly. Then he rose and fled 
in the direction he had chosen. 

He did not stop until the next night, covering a dis- 
tance of about thirty miles, and although he heard noth- 
ing further then from the warriors, he knew the 
pursuit was still on. But he was so far ahead that he! 


194 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


believed he could take rest with safety, and, creeping 
into a thicket, he made his bed once more among the 
leaves of last year. He slept soundly, but awakening at 
midnight, he scouted a bit about his retreat. Finding no 
evidence that the enemy was near, he slept again until 
dawn. Then he renewed the flight, turning a little more 
toward the north. 

He yet had enough of the deer meat to last, with 
economy, three or four days, and he did not trouble him- 
self for the present about the question of a further food 
supply. Instead he began to rejoice in his own flight. 
He was now fifty or sixty miles further north than the 
oasis, and as the country was higher and some time had 
elapsed since his departure, autumn was much more ad- 
vanced. It was a season in which he was always uplifted. 
It struck for him no note of decay and dissolution. The 
crispness and freshness that came into the air always 
expanded his lungs and made his muscles more elastic 
and powerful. He had the full delight of the eye in the 
glorious colors that came over the mighty wilderness. 
He saw the leaves a glossy brown, or glowing in red9 
or yellows. The sumac bushes burned like fire. Every- 
thing was sharp, clear, intense and vital. 

There was never another forest like that of the Mis- 
sissippi Valley, a million square miles of unbroken woods, 
cut by a myriad of streams, varying in size from the 
tiniest of brooks to the great Father of Waters himself. 
Henry loved it and gloried in it, and he knew it well, too. 
It now contained various kinds of ripening berries that 


195 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


served as a sauce for his deer meat, and occasionally he 
would crack some of the early nuts that had ripened and 
fallen. The need for food would not be strong enough 
for some days yet to make him fire upon any of his new 
comrades, the wild animals. 

But it is true that Henry still remained a creature of 
that primitive golden age. Never were his senses more 
acute. The lost faculties of man when he lived wholly 
in the woodland came back to him. He detected the 
presence of the hidden deer in the thickets, and he knew 
that the buffaloes were on the little prairies long before 
he came to them. He might have shot any number of 
the big beasts with ease, but he passed them by as he 
continued his steady flight into the north. 

He had not seen any sign of his pursuers in two days, 
and now he stopped for them to come up, meanwhile 
eating plentifully in a berry patch. The berries were 
rich and large, and he took his time and ease, enjoying 
his stay there all the more because of his new comrades. 
Two black bears preyed upon the farther edge of the 
patch, and he laughed at them when their noses were 
covered with crimson stains. They seemed to be friendly, 
but he did not put the tie of friendship to too severe a 
test by approaching closely. Instead, he watched them 
from a little distance, when, after having eaten enor- 
mously, they played with each other like two boys, push- 
ing and pulling, their reddened noses giving them the 
look of the comedians they were. 

A stag watched the sportive bears from a little dis- 

196 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


tance, standing body deep among the bushes, and re- 
garding them with gravity. It pleased Henry to see a 
twinkle of amusement in the great eyes of the deer, 
which kept his ground unafraid, despite the presence of 
his usual enemy, man. 

The bears, which were young, and hence festive, con- 
tinued their sport, encouraged, perhaps, by a gathering 
and appreciative audience. A wildcat ran out on a long 
bough, looked at them and yowled twice. As they paid 
no attention to him, he concluded that it was best to be 
in a good humor after all, as obviously nobody meant 
him any harm. So he lay on the bough and watched the 
game. His eyes showed green and yellow in the sun- 
light, but it pleased Henry to think that they also held 
a look of laughter. 

Three gray squirrels rattled the bark of an oak that 
overhung the berry patch. Then came a fox squirrel, 
with his more glowing color and big bushy tail, and all 
four looked at the bears. Sometimes they seemed glued 
to the bark. Then they would scuttle a short distance, 
to become glued again. Their beady eyes were twinkling. 
Henry could not see them, but he knew it must be so. 

A slender nose and a pointed head pushed through 
the bushes, and then a long, strong figure followed. A 
great gray wolf ! A beast of prey, but no thought of 
the hunt seemed to be in his mind now. He was about 
twenty feet from the rolling bears, and he regarded 
Henry with a look that said very plainly: “I enjoy the 
sport, but I would not do it myself.” Henry gave back 


197 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the look in kind, and the two, who would have been 
natural enemies at any other time, stood at opposite sides 
of the berry patch, looking with grave amusement at the 
sportive animals which still tumbled about, crushing the 
ripe berries under them, until not only their noses 
but almost their entire bodies were streaked with red 
stains. 

A tiny spot appeared in the blue sky far overhead, 
grew with astonishing swiftness, as a great bald eagle, 
descending with the utmost velocity, and then abruptly 
checking its flight, alighted on the bough of a tree 
over Henry’s head, where it sat, its eyes upon the 
comedy passing in the berry patch. At any other time 
the eagle would have regarded the youth as his natural 
enemy, but now there was no hostility between them. 
They were merely innocent spectators. 

A rabbit, disturbed in its cosy nest under the briars, 
hopped out, sat on a little mound and looked on with 
interest, unafraid of the bears, the wolf, the eagle or the 
human being. A red bird flew in a circle over the berry 
patch and then alighted among the leaves of a tree, where 
it burned in a splash of flame against the glossy brown. 
Another bird, in a more sober garb, poured forth a 
joyous song. 

The wilderness was at peace. Moreover, it was wit- 
nessing a comedy, presented by the true comedians of the 
forest, the young bears, and Henry’s sense of kinship 
grew stronger. It gave him a feeling of great warmth, 
too, to see that they were not afraid of him. In a meas- 

198 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


ure and for the time at least he was received into the 
forest family. 

A quarter of an hour passed, and the comedy was not 
yet finished, but Henry heard a lone far cry in the south, 
and he knew it was the signal of warrior to warrior. 
In a minute the answering signal was given, but much 
nearer, and the two bears stopped in their play, stand- 
ing up, their stained noses in the air and their streaked 
bodies quivering with apprehension. A third time came 
the call, and the figures of the bears stiffened. Then 
they slid through the berry patch and disappeared in 
the forest, going like shadows. The eagle unfolded his 
wings, shot upward like a bolt and was lost in the vast 
blue vault. The wolf vanished so silently that Henry 
found himself merely looking at the place where he had 
been. The rabbit disappeared from the mound. The 
spot of flame on the glossy brown that marked the pres- 
ence of the tanager was gone, and the sober brown bird 
ceased to sing. The forest idyll was over and Henry 
was alone in the berry patch. 

He felt bitter anger against the approaching warriors. 
.Before he had regarded them merely as enemies whose 
interests put them in opposition to him. In their place, 
doubtless, he would do as they were doing, but now, 
seeking his death, they had broken the wilderness peace. 
A desire for revenge, a wish to show them that pursuers 
as well as pursued could be in danger, grew upon him, 
and, as he fled again, he used little speed, allowing them 
to gain until he saw one of the brown figures among the 


199 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


tree trunks. Then he fired, and, when the figure fell, he 
uttered a shout of triumph in the Indian fashion. A 
yell of rage answered him, and now, reloading as he ran, 
he fled at a great rate. Twice he heard the distant cries, 
and then no more, but he knew that Shawnees and 
Miamis still followed on. The death of the warrior 
would be an additional incentive to the pursuit. He 
would seem to them to be taunting them, and, in truth, 
he was. 

But he had been refreshed so much by his stay in the 
berry patch that his speed now was amazing, wishing 
to leave them far behind as usual when the time came 
for sleep. A river, narrow but deep, suddenly threw 
itself across his path. It was an unwelcome obstruction, 
but, managing to keep his arms and ammunition dry, he 
swam it. The water was cold, and when he was on the 
other side he ran faster than ever in order to keep the 
blood warm in his veins and dry his clothing. 

There was but little sunshine now, and a raw, damp 
wind came out of the northwest. He looked at the skies 
anxiously, and they gave back no assurance. He knew 
the region had been steadily rising, and he had his ap- 
prehensions. In an hour they were justified. The raw, 
damp wind brought with it something that touched his 
face like the brush of a feather. It was the year’s first 
flake of snow, premature and tentative, but it was fol- 
lowed soon by others, until they became a thin white 
veil, driven by the wind. The brown leaves rustled and 
fell before them, and the appearance of the forest, that 


200 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


had been glowing in color an hour or two before, sud- 
denly became wintry and chill. The advance of twilight 
made the wilderness all the more somber, and Henry’s 
anxiety increased. He must find shelter for the night 
somewhere, and he did not yet know where. 

He came out upon the crest of a low ridge, and 
searched the forest with his eyes, hopeful that he might 
find again a rocky hollow equipped with dead leaves, or 
even a window matted with bushes and vines, but he 
saw neither. He beheld instead, and to his great sur- 
prise, a smoke in the north, a smoke that must be large 
or it would not be so plain in the dusk. He studied 
it, and finally came to the conclusion that it marked the 
presence of an Indian village. This region was not 
known to him, but as obviously it was a splendid hunt- 
ing ground it was not at all strange that he should come 
upon such a town. 

It was Indian smoke, but it beckoned to him, because 
there was warmth beneath it. It was not likely to be 
a large village, but the skin lodges and the log cabins 
perhaps would give ample protection against snow and 
cold. In every age, whether stone, cave or golden, man 
had to have something over his head on winter nights, 
and Henry, acting upon his usual belief that boldness 
was the best policy, went straight toward the village. 
He had some sort of an idea that he might pilfer the 
hospitality of his enemies. That would be a great joke 
upon them, and the more he thought of it the better he 
liked it. 


201 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


He used the last precaution as he approached. He 
was quite sure that the village stood in the woods, and 
he did not really fear anything except the stray curs 
usually found around Indian homes. But none barked 
as he drew near and he began to believe that his luck 
would find the place without them. Presently he saw 
the lights of two or three fires glimmering through the 
bushes, and then he came to a heap of bones, those of 
buffalo, wild turkey, deer, bear and every other kind of 
game, like one of the kitchen middens of ancient man 
in Europe. He drew at once the conclusion that the 
village, though small, was as nearly permanent as an 
Indian village could be. 

He went closer. Nobody sat by the fire. Apparently 
there was no watch, which was not strange, as here in 
the heart of their own country no enemy was likely to 
come. He counted fourteen lodges, four small log 
cabins and a larger one standing among the trees apart 
from the others. Thin threads of smoke rose from the 
four cabins and several of the tepees, but not from the 
larger cabin. It was certain now that there were no 
dogs, as, scenting him, they would have given tongue 
earlier. The fortune in which he trusted had not be- 
trayed him. 

His eyes passed again over the lodges and the smaller 
cabins and rested on the larger one, which was built of 
poles and had a wooden figure, carved rudely, standing 
at every one of the four corners. He noted these figures 
with intense satisfaction, and, having followed bold tac- 


202 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


tics, he became yet bolder, creeping through the forest 
toward the long cabin. 

The snow was still falling in fine, feathery flakes, 
not enough to make a real snow, but enough to cause 
great discomfort, and he exercised all his skill and cau- 
tion. 

While the Indians slept, yet someone among them 
always slept lightly, and he knew better than to bring 
such a swarm of hornets upon him. He reached the 
long cabin and saw in it a door opening toward the east- 
ern forest and away from the village. 

The door was closed with a heavy curtain of buffalo 
robe, but lifting it without hesitation he entered. Then 
he stood a little while near the entrance until his eyes 
grew accustomed to the dusk. The room, which had a 
floor of bark, was empty save for skins of buffalo or 
other animals hanging from poles, and two curtained 
recesses, in which stood totem figures like those at the 
corners of the house. 

Henry knew that it was a council house or house of 
worship. He had known that as soon as he saw the 
figures outside. No one would enter it until the chiefs 
came from a greater village to hold council or make 
worship. Any possible trail that he might have left 
would soon be covered by the falling snow, and, going 
within one of the curtained alcoves, he lifted the wooden 
figure there a little to one side. Then he spread one of 
the buffalo robes within the space and, folding his blanket 
about himself, lay down upon it. Soon he was asleep, 


203 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


while nearly a hundred of his enemies, men, women and 
children, also slept but fifty yards away. 

Henry did not awaken while the night lasted. He had 
reached the limit of endurance, and every nerve and 
muscle in him cried aloud for rest Moreover, his free- 
dom from apprehension conduced to quick and sound 
slumber, and it was long after daylight when his eyes 
opened and he stretched himself. He remembered at 
once where he was, and he felt a great sense of comfort. 
It was very warm and pleasant on the buffalo robe, with 
his blanket wrapped about his body, and sitting up he 
looked out through a narrow crevice between the poles. 

He saw a cold morning, with a skim of snow on the 
ground, already melting fast before the sun, and des- 
tined to be gone in a half hour, fires that had been built 
anew until they burned brightly, and squaws cooking 
before them, while warriors, with blankets drawn about 
their shoulders, sat near and ate. Children ran about, 
also eating or doing errands. It was a homely wilder- 
ness scene, and Henry knew at once that these people 
had nothing to do with the great hunt for him that was 
being conducted by Red Eagle and Yellow Panther, 
though they would seize him quickly enough if they 
knew of his presence. 

They were neither Miamis nor Shawnees, nor any 
other tribe he knew. They might be a detached frag- 
ment of some northwestern tribe with which he had 
never come in contact, or they might be a tiny tribe in 
themselves. In the vast American wilderness old tribes 


204 



“Red Eagle rose to address his hosts’’ 







THE BEAR GUIDE 


were continually perishing, and new tribes were con- 
tinually being formed from the pieces of the old. The 
people of this village seemed to Henry a fine Indian 
race, much like the great warrior nation, the Wyandots. 
The men were well built and powerful, and the women 
were taller than usual. 

He saw that it was a village of plenty. It was usually 
a feast or a famine with the Indians, but now it was 
unquestionably a period of feast. The squaws were 
broiling buffalo, deer, wild turkey, smaller game and 
fish over the coals. They were also cooking corn cakes, 
and Henry looked at these hungrily. It had been many 
days since he had eaten bread, and, craving it with a 
fierce craving, he resolved to pilfer some of the cakes 
if a chance offered. 

The odors, so pleasant in his nostrils and yet so tan- 
talizing, reminded him that he had with him the haunch 
of venison, of which a large portion was yet left. He 
ate, but it was cold. There was no water to drink with 
it, and he was not satisfied. His resolve to become an 
uninvited guest at their table, as well as under their roof, 
grew stronger. 

Yet he liked these Indians and he became convinced 
that they were in truth a little tribe of their own or a 
fragment split off from a larger tribe, buried here in the 
woods, to be the germ of bigger things. He was seeing 
them at their best, leading, amid abundance, the life to 
which they had been bom and which they loved. All, 
men, women and children, ate until they could eat no 


205 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


more. Then they idled about, the sun driving away the 
last of the snow and warming earth and air again. In 
a cleared space the half -grown boys began to play ball 
with the earnestness and vigor the Indians always showed 
in the game. The men, full and content, sat on their 
blankets and looked on. Thus the morning passed. 

In the hours before noon Henry did not chafe. He 
rather enjoyed the rest; but in the latter half of the day 
he grew impatient. He longed to be up and away again, 
but there would be no chance to leave until night, and 
he forced himself to lie still. He yet had no fear that 
any one would come into the council room. Such cham- 
bers were little used, unless the occasion was one of state. 

The afternoon was warm. The cold and light snow 
of the night before had been premature, and the van- 
guard of autumn returned to its normal state. While 
many leaves had fallen, more remained, and the colors 
were deeper and more vivid than ever. The whole for- 
est burned with red fire. Through a narrow opening 
among the trees Henry saw a small field, full of ripened 
maize, with yellow pumpkins between the stalks. The 
sight made him hungrier than ever for bread. 

About the middle of the afternoon, the warriors who 
were lying on their blankets rose suddenly and stood in 
an attitude of attention. They seemed to be listening, 
rather than looking, and Henry strained his ears also. 
He heard what appeared to be an echo, and then one of 
the warriors in the village replied with a long, thrilling 
whoop that penetrated far through the forest. 


206 


THE BEAR GUIDE 


He divined at once that the pursuit was at hand, not 
because the warriors had been led there by his trail, 
which in truth was invisible now, but because some 
portion of the net they had spread out must in time 
reach the village. 

The whole population gathered in the cleared space 
where the fires had burned and looked toward the south- 
ern forest. Henry, from his crack between the poles, 
saw ripples of interest running among them, the 
warriors exchanging sober comment with one another, 
the women and children not hesitating to talk and chat- 
ter as in a white village when visitors of interest were 
approaching. It was on the whole a bright and ani- 
mated picture, and he did not feel any hostility to a 
soul in that lost little town in the wilderness. 

Another cry came in five minutes from the forest, and 
now it was clear and piercing. A warrior in the village 
replied, and then they all waited, a vivid, eager crowd, 
to see who came. The whole space was within visible 
range of Henry’s crevice, and he watched with equal 
interest. 

A tall figure emerged from the forest, the figure of an 
elderly man, powerful despite his years, and with a face 
of authority. It was Red Eagle, head chief of the Shaw- 
nees, and behind him came the renegades, Wyatt and 
Blackstaffe, and twenty warriors. Despite their haughty 
bearing they showed signs of weariness. 

The chief of the village stepped forward and gravely 
saluted Red Eagle, who replied with equal gravity. They 


207 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


exchanged a few words, and with a wave of the arms 
the chief made them welcome. The fires were built 
anew, and, the guests sitting about them, smoked with 
their hosts a pipe of peace which was passed from one 
to another. Then food was brought and Red Eagle, his 
warriors and the renegades ate. 

Henry would have given much to hear what they said, 
but he knew they would not speak of their errand for 
a while. Some time must be allowed for courtesy and 
for talk that had nothing to do with their purpose. 
Nevertheless he saw that Red Eagle and all his band 
were worn to the bone, and he was glad. He had led 
them on such a chase as they had never pursued before, 
and he would lead them yet farther. He could afford to 
laugh. 

The guests ate hungrily and the women continued to 
serve food to them until they were satisfied. Then all 
except the adult male population of the village withdrew, 
and Red Eagle rose to address his hosts. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE GREATER POWERS 

W HEN the Shawnee chief rose to talk he stood 
at one side of the open space, scarcely twenty 
feet from the corner of the council house in 
which Henry lay hidden, and as he said what he had to 
say in the usual oratorical manner of the Indians upon 
such occasions, the youth easily heard every word. 

Red Eagle spoke in Shawnee, which Henry surmised 
was a kindred language to that of the village, and which 
it was obvious they easily understood. He told them a 
startling tale. He said that far in the south five white 
scouts and foresters, two of whom were only boys in 
years, although one of the boys was the largest and 
strongest of the five, had kept the Indians from destroy- 
ing the white settlements in Kain-tuck-ee. By trick and 
device, by wile and stratagem, they had turned back many 
an attack. It was not their numbers, but the cunning 
they used and the evil spirits they summoned to their 
aid that made them so powerful and dangerous. Until 
the five were removed the Indians could not roam their 
ancient hunting grounds in content 


209 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


So the Shawnees, the Miamis, the Wyandots, the Dela- 
wares and the kindred tribes had organized to pursue 
the five to the death. They had struck the trail of one, 
the youth who was the largest, the strongest and the most 
formidable of them all, and they had never ceased to 
follow it. Twice they had drawn around him a ring 
through which it seemed possible for nothing human 
to break, but on each occasion he had called to the 
evil spirits, his friends, and they had answered him 
with such effect that he had vanished like a bird at 
night. 

Murmurs of wonder came from the listening crowd. 
Truly, the young white warrior was of marvelous prow- 
ess, and it would not be well for one of them alone to 
meet him, when he not only had his formidable weapons, 
but could summon to his help spirits yet more dreadful. 
They cast apprehensive glances at the deep woods into 
which he had fled. 

Red Eagle was an impressive orator, and the forest 
setting was admirable. The great Shawnee chief stood 
full six feet in height, his brow was broad and his eyes 
clear and sparkling. He made but few gestures, and he 
spoke in a full voice that carried far. Before him were 
the people of the village, and behind him was the great 
forest, blazing in autumn red. The renegades, Black- 
staffe and Wyatt, stood near, each leaning against a tree 
trunk, following closely all that Red Eagle said. They, 
too, wished the destruction of the great youth, but their 
enmity to him was baser than that of the Indians, since it 


210 


THE GREATER POWERS 


was an innate jealousy and hatred, and not a hostility 
based upon difference of race and interest. 

When Henry looked at the renegades the desire to 
laugh was strong again. What rage they would feel if 
they ever came to know that when Red Eagle was mak- 
ing his address with his veteran warriors around him, 
the fugitive, for whose capture or death a red army had 
striven in vain for days, lay at his ease within fifty or 
sixty feet of them, a buffalo robe of the Indians’ them- 
selves, his bed, and one of their own houses his shelter! 

Red Eagle continued, in his round, full voice, telling 
them he had tracked the fugitive northward, his warriors 
picking up the trail again, and that he must have passed 
near their village. He wished to know if they had seen 
any trace of him, and he asked their help in the hunt. 
A middle-aged man, evidently the head of the village, 
replied with equal dignity, but in a dialect that Henry 
could not understand. Still, he assumed that it was a 
full assent, as, a few minutes after he had finished, ten 
warriors of the village, taking their weapons, went into 
the forest, and Henry knew that they were looking for 
him or his trail. But Red Eagle, his warriors and the 
renegades remained by the fire, still resting, because they 
were weary, very weary, no fugitive before ever having 
led them such a troublesome chase. 

Red Eagle, the Shawnee chief, was a statesman as well 
as a warrior. While it was true that young Ware was 
helped by evil spirits, he felt that the pursuit must be 
maintained nevertheless. Ware was the great champion 


21 1 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of the white people, who far to the south were cutting 
down the forest and building houses. He had acquired 
a wonderful name. His own deeds were marvelous, but 
superstition had added to the terror that he carried 
among the Indians. He must be removed. The neces- 
sity for it grew greater and more pressing every day. 
All the Indian power must be turned upon him, and 
when the task was achieved they could deal with his 
four comrades. He had talked over the problem with 
Yellow Panther, first chief of the Miamis, a man full 
of years, wise in council and great on the war path, and 
he had agreed with him fully that the pursuit must be 
maintained, even if it went to the Great Lakes, or those 
other great lakes in the far misty Canadian region beyond. 

Now, Red Eagle, as he rested by the fire and received 
the hospitality of the tiny tribe in the wilderness, was 
very thoughtful. Intellect as well as prowess had made 
him a great chief ; like the one Vhom he pursued, he 
loved the forest, and when he looked upon it now, in all 
its glowing colors of autumn, the glossy browns, the 
blazing reds and the soft yellows, he was not willing for 
a single one of its trees to be cut down. And while he 
meant to carry the pursuit to the very rim of the world 
he knew, if need be, he did not withhold admiration and 
a certain liking for the fugitive. 

Red Eagle glanced at the renegades, who had sat down 
now before the fire and who were in a half doze. Al- 
though they were useful to the Indians, who valued them 
for many reasons, he felt a strong aversion toward them 


212 


THE GREATER POWERS 


at that moment. He knew that if Ware were taken 
they would clamor at once for his life. None would be 
more eager for the torture than they, but Red Eagle 
had another plan in his mind. The principle of adoption 
was strong among the Indians. Captives were often re- 
ceived into the tribes, and Ware, with death as the 
alternative, might become a splendid young adopted son 
for him and, in time, the greatest chief of the Shawnees. 
He would not come as a renegade, like Blackstaffe and 
Wyatt, but as a valiant prisoner taken fairly in battle, 
to whom was left no other choice. 

It was to the credit of Red Eagle’s heart and brain, 
as he sat deeply pondering, that he evolved such a plan, 
but he made one mistake. High as he estimated the 
mental and physical powers of the fugitive to be, he did 
not estimate them high enough. Few would have had 
the strength of will that Henry displayed then to lie quiet 
in the council house while his enemies were all about 
him and the warriors were searching the forest around 
for his trail. It was fortunate, in truth, that the snow 
had come and passed, hiding any possible traces he 
might have left. 

His conviction that he was safe, for the present at 
least, remained. He knew there was no occasion for 
the chiefs to enter the sacred building in which he lay, 
and the others would not dare to do so. Nothing troubled 
him at present but thirst. His throat and mouth were 
dry and craved water, as one in the desert, but he knew 
that he must endure. 


213 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Late in the day, the warriors of the village who had 
gone out to look for his trail began to return, and when 
they had made their reports, Henry knew by the disap- 
pointment evident on the faces of Red Eagle and the 
renegades, that they had found nothing. He saw the 
Shawnee chief give orders to his own men, half of 
whom plunged into the forest to the northward and dis- 
appeared. They reckoned that he had gone on, and, 
spreading out in the usual fan fashion, would continue 
the pursuit. But it seemed that Red Eagle, with the 
remainder of his immediate force and the renegades, 
intended to pass the night in the village. 

A supper of great abundance and variety was served 
to the Shawnee chief and his men, and, when he saw 
the pure fresh drinking water brought to them, Henry 
raged inwardly. They had not taken him yet, but already 
he was being put to the torture. It was bitter irony 

that he should suffer so much for water when the forest 

\ 

contained countless streams and pools. ' He shut his 
teeth tight together and waited for the coming of the 
night, now not far away. The lack of water would drive 
him out of the council house, and in the dark he must 
seize anything that looked like an opportunity. 

He hoped for the clouds again and another veil of 
snow, however thin, but his hopes were not fulfilled. 
When the slow dusk came, he lifted the buffalo curtain 
and emerged from his corner, feeling an intense relief, 
despite the shooting pain, because he could stand up 
again. Then he stretched and rubbed himself until all 


214 


THE GREATER POWERS 


u 


the soreness was gone from his muscles, and, standing 
there, tried to think of a way to escape. 

His eyes, used to the dark of the room, fell upon a 
great headdress of twisted buffalo horns, profusely deco- 
rated with feathers. A long coat of buffalo skin adorned 
with feathers and porcupine quills in strange designs lay 
beside it upon the poles. He had seen many such equip- 
ments. It was a sort of regalia worn by Indian dancers, 
and now and then by great chiefs upon solemn occasions. 

He looked at it, idly at first, and then with growing 
interest, as an idea was born in his brain. The dress 
must be almost sacred in character, or it would not be 
left here in the council house, and kind fortune had cer- 
tainly put it on the poles for his particular use. Once 
more he was thoroughly convinced that he was watched 
over by the greater powers, not because of any especial 
merit of his, but for reasons of their own, and he clothed 
himself in the headdress and the strange, variegated robe 
that fell to his ankles. Then even Shi f ’less Sol would 
have had to take a third look to know him. 

Henry’s heart beat high and fast. He was thor- 
oughly convinced that he had found a way. He had now 
only to use that rarest and greatest of qualities, patience, 
and, by a supreme exertion of the will, he managed to 
wait until it was far into the night. 

Red Eagle had gone into one of the log cabins, and 
was probably asleep. Henry, from the crack, was not 
able to see what had become of the renegades, but he 
surmised that they, too, were sleeping somewhere. Two 


2iS 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of the fires still burned in the open, but nobody watched; 
beside them, and he judged that the time was ripe for 
the trial. 

He gave a final touch to the headdress and the buffalo 
robe. He would have been glad to have seen himself in 
a glass, but he was sure, nevertheless, that he looked his 
part of a great medicine man, a reincarnation of some 
ancient chief who had come back to spend a while within 
the sacred precincts of the council house. His rifle he 
managed to hide beneath the great painted coat, at the 
same time holding it convenient for his use, and, lifting 
the curtain of buffalo robe, he stepped out. 

It was neither a dark nor a fair night, but much fleecy 
vapor was floating between earth and sky, imparting to 
the village and the forest a misty, unreal effect which 
was suited admirably to Henry’s purpose, enlarging his 
figure and giving to it a fantastic and weird effect. 
Knowing it, and having the utmost confidence in him- 
self, he chose a path directly through the center of the 
open, walking slowly, but taking strides of great length 
and stepping from tiptoe to tiptoe. 

Two Indian sentinels, a Shawnee and a native of the 
village, were dozing by the wall of one of the log cabins, 
when they heard the step in the open. They lifted heavy 
eyelids and beheld a gigantic figure, attired in a garb 
that ordinary mortals do not wear, stalking toward the 
forest, caring nothing for the sentinels, the village or 
anything else. They were in the midway region between 
sleeping and waking, when images are printed upon the 

216 


THE GREATER POWERS 


brain in confused or exaggerated shapes, and the mys- 
terious visitor, who was even then taking his departure, 
seemed to them at least fifteen feet high, while, from 
under the headdress of twisted buffalo horns, two great 
eyes, hot and blazing like coals, stared at them. This 
terrifying figure, as they gazed upon it, raised a huge 
hand full of menace and shook it at them. They gave a 
yell of terror and darted into the forest. 

Red Eagle, sleeping the sleep of the just and tired, 
heard the shout of alarm, and it impinged so heavily upon 
his unconscious brain that he was shocked at once into 
an awakening. He leaped to his feet and ran out of the 
cabin, just in time to meet the head chief of the village 
coming out of another one. The two stared at each 
other, and then they saw the great figure, in its mystic 
apparel, just where forest and open met. Each uttered 
a gasp, and, before they could gasp a second time, the 
apparition was gone among the trees, vanishing from 
their stupefied gaze like a wisp of smoke before the 
wind. Then Red Eagle and his host, great and wise 
chiefs though they were, looked at each other again and 
trembled. 

Henry meanwhile was racing through the forest and 
toward the north, always toward the north, and as he 
ran he shook with laughter. He had seen the look of 
dismay on the faces of the Indians and he rejoiced. He 
was sorry that he had not seen Braxton Wyatt and 
Blackstaffe too. Their minds were less subject to super- 
stition than those of the red men, but no doubt in the 


217 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 

first minute or two they were frightened also if they 
saw him. 

Yet he believed that the renegades would arouse the 
Indians and perhaps would suspect that the terrific 
stranger, who had come and departed so mysteriously, 
was none other than the fugitive himself. He did not 
care if they did; in truth, he rather hoped they would. 
He could imagine their mortification and disappointment, 
and since they had gone to dwell with strangers and fight 
their own people, it was only a fraction of what they 
deserved. 

The great headdress of twisted buffalo horns was 
heavy and the big painted buffalo coat flapped around 
him, but he would not discard them yet. Stray warriors 
might be in the forest near the village, and, if so, he 
wished to reserve for them his awful and threatening 
appearance. But he could not stand them more than a 
mile. Then he threw the headdress into a creek, hoping 
that it would float away with the current, but, thinking 
he would have further use for it, he kept the painted 
coat. Then he crossed the creek and resumed his north- 
ward flight at great speed. 

He did not stop until dawn, when he felt that he was 
safe, for a day at least, from pursuit. He had brought 
with him what was left of the deer meat, and, sitting 
down by the bank of a small brook, he ate, drinking 
afterward of the clear stream and giving thanks. He 
had been saved again in a miraculous manner. When 
skill and strength themselves would have been of no 


218 


THE GREATER POWERS 


avail, fortune had put the council house and the cere- 
monial robes in his way. He could not doubt that the 
greater powers were working in his behalf, and he felt 
all the elation that comes from the assurance of con- 
tinued victory. 

But it was a bleak dawn. A cold sun was rising in a 
cold, blue sky. There was no snow now, but the dry 
grass was white with frost, and whenever the wind 
stirred a little, the dead leaves fell with a dry rustle. 
He retreated deeper into the thicket, and he was glad 
that he had kept the great painted coat, as he wrapped 
himself in it from head to foot and lay down between 
two fallen logs, with the dense bushes over his head. 

He must find another interval of rest and sleep, and 
feeling that his best chance lay here, he drew the coat 
very close. It kept him thoroughly warm, and, as soon 
as his nerves settled into their normal condition, he 
slept. 

He awoke before noon, and the morning was still frosty 
and cold. Yet the wilderness was more beautiful than 
ever. The frost had merely deepened its colors. While 
many dead leaves had fallen, myriads remained, and they 
had taken on more intense and glowing tints. The air 
had all the purity and tonic of an American autumn. 
The light winds were the breath of life itself. 

He ate the last of the deer, and then he found bunches 
of wild grapes, small and bitter sweet, but refreshing. 
Later in the day he must secure game, though he still 
felt averse to shooting anything, since the creatures of 


219 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the forest had saved him more than once. But in the 
end it would come to it. 

It was a rolling country, and, walking to the crest of 
the highest rid£e, he examined it in all directions. He 
saw only the great forest in its reds and yellows and 
browns, and he was alone in it, its uncrowned king, if 
he chose to call himself so. 

Although the country was new to him, Henry believed 
that he was about two hundred and fifty miles north of 
the Ohio and in the region inhabited by the warlike 
northwestern tribes. Several of their great villages must 
lie not very far to the east of him, and he smiled at the 
thought that he was leading the pursuit back to the homes 
of the pursuers. He wondered what his comrades were 
doing, but he believed that they would remain in the 
swamp, or near it, until he came back. 

Not knowing what else to do, he moved northward 
again, and presently heard a low, monotonous sound, 
which after a little listening he decided to be Indian 
squaws chanting. Further listening convinced him that 
there were only two voices, and he approached cautiously 
among the trees. 

Two Indian women, one quite young and the other 
quite old, were cooking by the side of a small brook, in 
which they had evidently been washing deerskin cloth- 
ing earlier in the day, as it now lay drying on the bank. 
Probably they were the wife and mother of some war- 
rior preparing for his return from the hunt. Henry 
took little interest in the deerskins they had washed, but 


220 


THE GREATER POWERS 


his attention was concentrated quickly upon their cooking. 

They were broiling a fat, juicy wild turkey. He had 
an especially tender tooth for wild turkey, particularly 
when it was young and fat. It, more than anything else, 
was his staff of life, and now he set covetous eyes upon 
the one that was broiling over the coals. He did not 
like to rob women, but it must be done, and he bethought 
himself of his painted coat. Pulling it high over his head, 
concealing his rifle under it and uttering a tremendous 
woof, he stalked into the open in which the fire was 
burning. 

The two Indian women, when they beheld the appa- 
rition, uttered simultaneous screams and fled into the 
forest, while the hungry young robber, lifting their tur- 
key from the Are, where it was already well broiled, 
disappeared among the trees in the opposite direction, 
happy to have secured his rations through the aid of 
fright only and without violence. He knew, however, 
that he could not afford to satisfy his hunger just then. 
Warriors, and perhaps a village, could not be far away, 
and the men, divining that the fright of the women was 
caused by a human being, would soon come in pursuit. 
So he went at least two or three miles before he sat down 
and ate a substantial dinner, reserving the remainder for 
future use. Truly the wild turkey was his best friend. 

That night he lay agairi in the forest, and he was de- 
voutly glad that he had saved the painted robe. The 
climate of the great valley is fickle, and it rapidly turned 
colder again. Raw winds whistled through the woods, 


221 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


and he had difficulty in finding a sheltered place where, 
even with the aid of the robe, he could keep warm. He 
selected at last a tiny glen, well grown with tall bushes on 
every side, heaped up parallel rows of dead leaves, and 
then, lying down between them, wrapped in the robe, fell 
asleep. 

When he awoke his face felt cold, and opening his 
eyes, he found that it had good reason to be so. It was 
covered with snow, and upon the robe itself the snow 
lay deep. The whole forest was white, and, as he stood 
up, he heard branches cracking beneath the weight that 
had gathered on them in the night. It had come down 
in thick and great flakes, but so softly that it had failed 
to awaken him. 

Henry, despite his courage and strength, was alarmed. 
It is one thing even for the best trained to live in the 
forest in summer, but quite another in winter. Nor 
was the aspect of the sky encouraging. It was somber 
with clouds, and, even as he looked at it, the snow began 
to fall again. It was not an ordinary snow, but the 
clouds just ripped their bottoms out and let their entire 
burden fall at once. A huge white cataract seemed to 
fill the whole air, and Henry’s alarm deepened into dis- 
may. The snow would soon be six inches deep, then a 
foot, and what was he to do? 

He was thankful once more for the painted robe, and 
also for the wild turkey that he had pilfered, and know- 
ing that he must keep warm, he started on a dreary walk 
toward the north. The snow was pouring so hard that 


222 


THE GREATER POWERS 


he could scarcely see, but he heard a sound to his right, 
and presently he was able to discern an immense stag 
floundering in some undergrowth in which its hoofs 
seemed to be caught. 

Henry could easily have shot the deer and it would 
have furnished an unlimited supply of food, at a time 
when he might be snowed up for days. He always be- 
lieved afterward, too, that the deer expected to be killed, 
as it ceased its struggles and looked at him with great, 
pathetic eyes. It was a magnificent stag, the largest he 
had ever seen, but he had no heart to shoot. His own 
eyes met the appealing gaze from those of the king of 
the woods and he felt sorry. Nothing could have in- 
duced him to shoot. He sincerely hoped that the stag 
would pull free, and as the thought came to him the 
wish was fulfilled. 

The left forefoot, which was entangled, suddenly came 
loose and unhurt. Never did Henry see a transforma- 
tion more rapid and complete. The stag, before pathetic 
and depressed, a beaten beast, expanded in the twinkling 
of an eye into a mighty monarch of the forest. He stood 
erect, threw back his great head in a gesture of triumph, 
looked once more at the human being whom nature had 
taught him instinctively to dread, but who had not 
harmed him when he was at his mercy, then stalked away, 
until he was lost behind the white veil of the snowy fall. 

Henry felt gladness. He was glad that he had not 
shot, and he was glad that the stag had released his foot, 
or otherwise he would have perished under the teeth of 


223 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


wolves. Then he addressed himself to his own peril, 
which was great and increasing. He hunted the deepest 
portions of the woods, but the snow sought him there. 
He stood under the trees of the thickest boughs, but the 
white fall gradually poured through, heaping upon his 
head, his shoulders and the folds of his robe. He would 
brush it off and move on to another place, merely to 
find it gathering again, and, by and by, his great muscles 
began to feel weariness. He plodded for hours in the 
deepening snow, seeking a refuge from this persistent 
and deadly fall, but finding none. A sort of despair, 
almost unknown to him, oppressed him for a little while. 
He had fought off innumerable attacks of warlike and 
powerful savages, he had triumphed over hardships and 
dangers the very name of which would make the ordi- 
nary man shudder, and here he was about to be con- 
quered by a mere shift of the wind that brought snow. 

He could have shouted aloud in anger, but instead he 
summoned all his courage and strength anew and con- 
tinued his hunt for a refuge. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE STAG’S COMING 

T HE snow, famous in the annals of the tribes as one 
of the greatest that ever fell so early in the 
autumn, continued to pour down. Where Henry 
had sunk to his ankles, he now sank almost to his knees, 
and the wilderness stretched away, without offering the 
shelter of any covert or rocky hollow. His exertions 
made him very warm, but he was too wise to take off the 
painted coat, lest he cool too fast. To fall ill in the snowy 
forest, hunted by savages, was a thought to make the 
boldest shudder, and he took no chances. 

He fought the storm for hours. Rightly it could be 
called no storm, as it was merely the placid fall of snow 
in huge quantities, but in the long run it contained more 
elements of danger than a hurricane. Night came and 
he was still struggling among the drifts, not walking now 
with firm, straight steps, but staggering. Nearly all of 
his tremendous strength was gone, exhausted, fighting 
against the impassive snowy depths that always held him 
back. Once or twice he fell, but his will brought him 
to his feet again, and he went on, his mind now 


225 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


directing wholly the almost inert mass that was his body. 

Twilight came, adding a new gloom to the somber 
heavens. All the animals themselves seemed to have 
gone, and he strove alone for life amid the vast desola- 
tion. Then he recalled his courage once more. On this 
great expedition, when he was offering himself as a sacri- 
fice for his people, the miracles were always happening. 
At the last moment, when it did not seem possible for him 
to be saved, he had always been saved, and surely the 
miracle would occur once more ! 

He came to a huge tree, blown down by the wind, but 
yet projecting above the snow, and sitting down on the 
trunk he leaned against an upthrust root. He closed his 
eyes, for a moment or two, and the desire to keep them 
shut, and sink into happy forgetfulness, was almost more 
than he could resist. He made a gigantic effort and 
pulled himself back to full consciousness, knowing that 
the easiest way, which in this case was the way of yield- 
ing, would be the fatal way. Drawing up the last ounces 
of his strength he staggered on, remembering to keep his 
rifle protected by the painted coat, and clinging also to 
the turkey. 

He looked up at the heavens, but they gave no promise. 
They were without a break in the massed clouds, and the 
snow poured down in an unceasing white fall. The range 
of vision was so short that he could not tell the character 
of country into which he was coming, and, presently, he 
struck marshy ground, into which his moccasined feet 
sank deep, coming forth wet and cold. It was a new dan- 


226 


THE STAG’S COMING 


ger, and he stamped his feet hard and walked faster in 
an endeavor to keep the circulation going and to keep 
them from freezing. It was a peril that he had not fore- 
seen, and it would, in truth, be the very irony of fate if, 
after so many miracles had intervened to save him from 
pressing dangers, he should perish in a premature snow 
storm. 

Usually, one could find shelter of a sort in the wilder- 
ness. The forest of the great valley had become in the 
course of ages so dense with thickets and matted tangles 
of fallen trees that one did not have to go far before 
coming to a lair into which he could creep. But now 
everything of the kind evaded Henry. His eyes, almost 
blinded by the snow, saw only the straight trunks of 
trees, and open ground that offered no protection at all. 
Moreover, the chill from his wet feet, in spite of all his 
efforts, was extending and he shivered. 

But he would not despair. He might have had such 
moments, but they were moments only, and he fought on, 
as those, whose souls are made of courage, fight. Yet 
the wilderness became gloomier, more desolate and more 
menacing than ever. The fall of snow was less heavy, 
but a bitter wind rose and it came with an alternate shriek 
and moan. The air grew colder and the chill of the wind 
struck into Henry’s bones. Nevertheless he struggled 
on in the darkening night, going he knew not where, nor 
to what. 

Courage and will can triumph over most things, but not 
over all things. There comes a time when hour, place 


227 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


and circumstances seem to combine against the individual, 
and such an hour had come for Henry. He searched 
everywhere for some place in which he could lie until 
the storm had passed, but it was always nothing, nothing, 
just the open forest, and the driving wind, and the creep- 
ing chill which was steadily going into all his bones. 

At last, scarcely able to raise a foot, he sank down on 
a fallen log and stared into the gloomy woods which gave 
back not a single ray of hope. Again he felt the dreamy 
desire to sink into rest and complete oblivion, and again 
he fought it off, knowing that it was the way of death. 
Then he looked up at the somber skies, and prayed for 
one more miracle. 

Henry, despite his wild, rough life, had much reverence 
in his nature. The wilderness, too, with its varied mani- 
festations, encouraged the belief in a supreme power, just 
as it had given birth among the Indians to a natural 
religion closely akin to the revealed religion of the white 
man. Now, he was hopeful that in the extreme moment 
help would be sent to him, and that the last of the miracles 
had not yet been performed. Closing his eyes he said his 
prayer over and over again to himself, and then opening 
them he stared as before at the desolate forest, empty of 
everything living save his own presence. 

But was it empty? Straight ahead of him he seemed 
to see an outline through the falling snow, like a dim and 
dusky figure behind a veil. He rose, new strength flow- 
ing into his veins, and took a step or two forward, fear- 
ful that he had been deceived by one of the fancies or 

228 


THE STAG’S COMING 


visions, supposed to float before the eyes of the dying. 
Then he saw. The dim outlines on the other side of the 
snowy veil grew clearer and he traced the figure of a 
stag, larger than any other stag that had ever trod the 
earth, gigantic and majestic. 

The stag, too, was staring at him, and he knew it to be 
the same that he had seen earlier in the day, though it 
had grown wonderfully in size since then. It showed 
not the slightest trace of fear, but, instead, the great 
luminous eyes seemed to him to express pity. 

A thrill of superstitious awe ran through him. But 
it was awe, not fear. The stag, gigantic and almost a 
phantom, did not threaten. It pitied, and as Henry gazed 
at it with the fascinated eyes of one in a dream or in an 
illusion so deep that it was a twin brother to reality, the 
deer turned and walked slowly among the trees. Twenty 
paces, and, stopping an instant, it looked back. The hu- 
man figure was following and the deer walked on, its 
stride measured and magnificent. 

Henry did not doubt that his prayers had been an- 
swered, and that another miracle had been ordered for his 
salvation. He became transformed as if by magic. His 
head, which had been so heavy that it sagged upon his 
shoulders, grew singularly light. The blood, stagnant 
before, leaped in his veins like quicksilver, and his steps 
were straight and firm. The size of the deer did not de- 
crease for him. It loomed immense and powerful through 
the driving snow, and, as it led steadily on, never looking 
back now, he followed with equal steadiness. 


229 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


The stag turned once, going sharply to the right, and, 
in a few more minutes, the ground grew quite rough. 
Then he saw through the veil of the snow high hills rising 
on either side, but the stag led into a deep and narrow 
valley between them. As they advanced, it narrowed yet 
further, and the trees and bushes on the crests above them 
were so dense that the snow was not deep there, and the 
bitter wind was cut off entirely. Either hope and con- 
fidence or some measure of returning warmth drove the 
chill from Henry’s bones, as he forgot the wet and 
cold and pressed forward eagerly when the stag increased 
his pace. 

Henry’s mental state became one of exaltation. He did 
not know to what he was going, but he knew that life lay 
at the end of the stag’s trail, and he was willing to follow 
as long as need be. Nor did he ever know how long he 
followed, but he did notice that the cleft was growing 
deeper and narrower. After an unknown time he emerged 
into a tiny valley that was more like a well, it was set so 
deep in the hills and its slopes were so steep, the cliffs in 
truth overhanging on two sides. 

He uttered a cry of joy. This was to be his refuge 
and here he would be saved. Stretches of ground under 
the hanging cliffs were bare of snow, and heaped high 
with dead leaves. Dead wood lay all about. The bitter 
wind, with its alternate shriek and whistle, swept over- 
head, but it did not touch the floor of the well. The air 
was still and it did not bite. 

The stag turned and looked back for the second and 
230 


THE STAG’S COMING 


last time, and Henry, either in reality or in an illusion so 
deep that it was as vivid as reality, saw an expression of 
kinship in the great luminous eyes. Once more, for 
him at least, the old golden age when men and animals 
were friends had come back to endure an hour or two. 
Then, lifting its head very high and seeming taller and 
more majestic than ever, it passed out of the valley at 
a narrow opening on the other side. 

Henry, shaking himself violently to bring back his 
wandering faculties, concentrated them upon his present 
needs, which were still urgent. Crouching in the best 
shelter that the hanging cliff furnished, he rapidly whittled 
shavings from the dead wood, until he had formed a 
heap close to the stony wall. Then, with the flint and 
steel that every hunter carried and laboring desperately, 
he managed to extract from the flint enough sparks to 
set fire to the shavings, hanging over the tiny blaze and 
shielding it with his body lest it go out and leave him 
alone in the cold and the dark. 

The flame persisted and grew, reached out, and bit into 
more shavings, and then into larger pieces of dead wood 
that Henry presented to its teeth. Dead leaves helped it 
along, and he fed to it larger and larger sticks, until he 
had a splendid leaping fire, the very finest fire that was 
ever built in this world, a fire that sent up many high 
flames, red in the center and yellow at the edges, a fire 
that made great, glowing coals in beds, capable of keeping 
their heat all night. 

Then Henry knew that in very truth and fact he was 
231 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


saved. Let the wind whistle and shriek above his head! 
He cared nothing for it. He took off his wet leggings 
and moccasins, and dried them and his feet and legs 
before the fire. The spirit of a youth returned to him. 
He tried to see how near he could hold his flesh to those 
wonderful coals and flames without burning it, and with 
the fire, which is a twin brother to life, he felt life itself 
flowing anew into his body. 

His vitality was so great that his strength seemed to 
return all at once, and he built another fire as fine as the 
first, but a little distance from it. Then he lay between 
the two, and was warmed on both sides. Exposed to the 
double heat also, his moccasins and leggings soon dried 
and he put them on again. His feeling was now one of 
extraordinary comfort, and warming the turkey on the 
coals, he ate an abundant supper, while he listened to the 
wind overhead and saw snow drop in the valley, but not 
on him, where he lay well within the lee of the stone 
wall. 

After resting awhile between the fires he began to 
gather wood, the whole valley being littered with it. He 
did not know how long the storm would hold him there, 
and he intended to have sufficient heat. He also heaped 
up the wood into a species of rude wall, until no drop of 
snow could blow into his cleft under the cliff, and then 
contemplated his work with satisfaction. He could stay 
here as long as the storm lasted, even for days, nor did he 
forget to give thanks once more for the wonderful man- 
ner in which the stag had saved him. It was first the 


232 


THE STAG’S COMING 


buffaloes, then the bear and now the deer. What would 
it be next ? 

Henry let the two fires sink to glowing heaps of 
coals, and then, warming thoroughly before them the great 
painted buffalo coat, he retreated to the alcove behind his 
wooden wall and made his bed on the leaves. He felt for 
all the world like a bear gone into its snug den for the 
long winter sleep, and, as he drew the big coat about his 
body, he looked lazily at the fires, which were so placed 
that the heat from them warmed his corner despite the 
wooden barrier. 

Then the usual relaxation, after a tremendous mental 
and physical struggle came over him, and he began to 
feel the extraordinary luxury of lying dry, warm, well 
fed and in safety. It was all the primitive man desired, 
the best he ever received, and Henry, who had been put 
in their position, rejoiced as one of those far, faraway 
men might have rejoiced, when he, too, attained all his 
wishes. 

The feeling of luxurious ease kept him in a dreamy 
state a long time. Although he felt strong and active 
again, able to cope with any crisis, he had really been 
very near the end for the time being to the extraordinary 
powers with which nature had endowed him. Now, as his 
great vitality flowed back and he knew that he was safe, 
it was just a pleasure to lie still, to feel the warmth, and 
to see dreamily the glow of the fires, in truth, to feel 
as his ancestors had felt in like comfort forty thousand 
years ago. 


2 33 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Meanwhile the air turned a little warmer, just enough 
to admit a return of the heavy snowfall and the big 
flakes began to pour down again. Some of them, blown 
by the wind, fell on the sheltered fires, and hissed as they 
melted. But Henry was not troubled. He knew they 
could not reach him. 

At the same time, but many miles to the south, a great 
force of Indian warriors, led by the two wise and valiant 
chiefs, Red Eagle, the Shawnee, and Yellow Panther, the 
Miami, was going into camp. Yellow Panther had come 
up with a force also and they had struck again the trail 
of the fugitive, but the coming of the storm had hidden 
it, of course, and as the snow deepened they were com- 
pelled to abandon, until the next day at least, all thought 
of catching Henry Ware, taking instead measures for 
their own preservation. Among them were men who 
knew the country, and they soon found a deep valley, in 
which they built their fires and ate their venison. 

Red Eagle and Yellow Panther sat with the renegades, 
Blackstaffe and Wyatt, by one of the fires, and talked 
earnestly of the pursuit. The chiefs did not like the 
white men who had gone with strangers to fight 
against their own, but they respected their knowledge 
and tenacity. The chase had been long and arduous, it 
had drawn off much strength from the tribes, but they 
were in unanimous agreement that it should be continued, 
no matter how long, until their object was achieved. The 
great snow itself, deep and premature though it was, 
should not turn them back. 


234 


THE STAG’S COMING 


Henry could not see this council through the miles of 
hills and driving snow, but had his thoughts been turned 
in that direction he would have made to himself a picture 
just like it, nor would he ever have doubted for an instant 
that the chiefs and the renegades would pursue him as 
long as pursuit was possible. 

It was well into the night, when his eyes closed and 
the sleep that took hold of him was far deeper than usual, 
carrying him into an oblivion that lasted until far after 
the sun had risen over a world, still white and misty with 
the falling snow. 

He was surprised to see that the storm had not yet 
stopped, but he was not alarmed. The two fires were 
still smouldering, and the dead wood that he had heaped 
up was sufficient to last many days. It was true that he 
had only the wild turkey for food, but he was sure, in 
time, to discover other resources. He had seen the 
proof over and over again, that, for the time at least, he 
was a favorite of the greater powers. He was too modest 
to think it due to any particular merit of his own, but it 
seemed to him that he had been chosen as an instrument, 
and, for that reason, he was being preserved through 
every hardship and danger. 

Secure in his belief, which was more than a belief, a 
conviction rather, he began to make a home for himself 
in his tiny valley, which was not more than fifty feet 
across, and above which the hills, steep like the side of 
a house, rose three or four hundred feet. His first pre- 
caution was to build the fires anew, not with a high flame, 


235 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


but with a slow steady burning that would make great 
beds of coals, glowing with heat. Then he examined the 
pass by which he had come, to find it choked with seven 
or eight feet of snow, and he looked next at the one 
by which the deer had gone, to discover that it was much 
like the first, leading a distance that was yet indefinite to 
him, as he did not care to follow it through the deep 
snow to its end. 

Shaking the snow from the painted robe he came back 
to the covert and waited with as much patience as he 
could summon. Now he missed greatly his four com- 
rades, and their talk. With them the time would have 
passed easily, but since they were not there he must do 
the best he could without them. The problem of food 
which he had resolutely pushed away, forced itself back 
again. A big, powerful body such as his was like an 
active engine. It required much fuel. There would be 
no food but animal food, and he was in no mood for kill- 
ing an animal now. But he could not hide from himself 
the fact that it must be done, sooner or later. 

On the second day he went through the pass by which 
the deer had gone, beating down the snow under his feet, 
until it was hard enough to sustain him, and, after about 
two miles of such difficult traveling, came upon fairly 
level ground. Here, hunting about, he surprised several 
rabbits in their deep nests, and killed them with blows 
of his rifle muzzle. 

The hunt took nearly all day, and, when he returned to 
the cove with his game, night was coming. He was sur- 

236 


THE STAG'S COMING 


prised to find how welcome the place was to him and 
how much it looked like a home. There was his sheltered 
alcove, with the wall of dead wood in front of it, and 
there were two heaps of coals sending their friendly glow 
to him through the cold dusk. 

It was a home, and it was more. It was a refuge and 
a fortress. He had been guided to it by the greater 
powers, and he should value it for all it had afforded him, 
warmth, shelter and protection from his foes. He was 
not one to be lacking in gratitude or appreciation, and 
he sent admiring glances about his well, for it was more 
like a well than a valley. Lonely it might be, but bodily 
comforts it offered in abundance to such as Henry. 

He cleaned the rabbits and hung them up in the alcove, 
knowing that their bodies would freeze hard in the night, 
and thus would be preserved, giving him with the wild 
turkey a supply of food sufficient for two or three days. 

He was awakened the second night by cries, faint but 
very fierce, and he knew they were made by wolves howl- 
ing. The ferocity, however, was not for him, as during 
that singular period his feeling of kinship for the ani- 
mals extended even to the wolf. He knew that they 
howled because of hunger. The deep snow was hard on 
the wolves, making it difficult to find or pursue their prey, 
and they sent forth the angry lament because they were 
famished. 

Henry merely drew the painted robe more closely about 
his body, looked contentedly at the glow from the two 
fine beds of coals, closed his eyes once more and went to 


237 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


sleep. He did not look for wolves in his well, although he 
heard them howling again the next night, the note plain- 
tive and fierce alike with the call of intense hunger. The 
fourth day, he went out through the pass and killed more 
rabbits, adding them to his store. He saw a deer floun- 
dering in the deep snow, but he would not shoot it. The 
time might come when he would slay a deer, but he could 
not do it that week. 

Now he began to study the skies. He knew that the 
premature snow, deep as it was, could not last long, and, 
likely enough, it would be followed by heavy rain. Then 
the snow would certainly pour in a deluge down the hill- 
sides, and the water might rage in a torrent in the ravine. 
His well would be flooded and he would have to take to 
flight, but it would be no harder on pursued than on pur- 
suers. 

Two more days passed and the warm weather did not 
come. The snow ceased to fall, but it lay gleaming and 
deep on the ground, and the sound of boughs, cracking 
beneath its weight, was almost incessant. Indifferent to 
the deep trail he left, he climbed again to the heights 
and ranged over a considerable area. A second time, a 
floundering deer presented itself to his rifle, and a sec- 
ond time he refused to fire. The deer seemed to expect 
no danger, as it gazed at him with fearless eyes, and, 
waving to it a friendly farewell, he passed on among the 
trees, every one of which stood up an individual cone of 
white. 

Then he heard the howl of wolves and traveling on to a 
238 


THE STAG’S COMING 


valley beyond he saw a pack running far ahead. Twenty 
they were, at least, and whether or not they chased a deer 
he could not tell, but the fierce note of hunger was in their 
voices, and whatever it was they pursued they followed it 
fast. 

Then he turned back toward his home, weary with 
walking through snow so deep, too deep yet for his further 
flight northward, and the fires in the covert seemed fairly 
to shine with welcome for him. That night he broiled 
and ate an entire rabbit for supper, but felt that he must 
have a more varied diet soon, if he was to preserve his 
strength. He looked again for the clouds which were to 
bring the great rain, destroyer of great snows, but the 
skies were clear, frosty and starry, and his eager eyes 
did not find a single blur. 

It was evident that he must use all his patience and keep 
on waiting. So he set himself to the task of putting his 
body in the best possible trim, until such time as he would 
have to subject it to severe tests. He exercised himself 
daily and he always saw that his bed under the ledge was 
dry and warm. He never permitted the fires to go out, 
and gradually, as the snow about them melted from the 
heat, the ground there became hard and dry. 

He was still able to procure food without firing a shot, 
finding plenty of rabbits in the deep snow on the hills, 
but he grew intensely weary of such a diet, and he felt 
that if he had to linger much longer he would kill a deer, 
although he had been saved by one. Every hour he 
scanned the heavens looking for the clouds which he 


239 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


knew would come in time, since the cold could not en- 
dure at such an early period in the autumn. 

He had been in his retreat a week when he felt a light 
and soft touch on his face, the breath of the west wind. 
It had almost a summer warmth, and, then he knew that 
one of the great changes in temperature, to which the 
valley is subject, was coming. Throughout the after- 
noon the wind blew, and water began to trickle in the 
ravine. The sound of soft snow sliding down the hill 
was almost constant in his ears. Toward dusk, the 
clouds that he had expected came floating up from the 
horizon’s rim, but he did not believe rain would fall be- 
fore the next day. 

Nevertheless, he took precautions, building a rough 
floor of dead wood in the alcove, and arranging to pro- 
tect himself from the downpour which he considered in- 
evitable. He also put his stores in the place that would 
remain safest and dryest, and lying down, high upon the 
dead wood, he fell asleep. He was awakened in the 
night by a rushing sound. The great rain that was to 
destroy the great snow had come, several hours earlier 
than he had expected it, and it was a deluge. 

The trickle in the ravine became a torrent, and he 
heard it roaring. The floor of his little valley was soon 
covered with six inches of water and he was devoutly 
glad that he had built his platform of dead wood, upon 
which he could remain untouched by the flood, at least 
for the present. That it would suffice permanently he 
was not sure, as the rain was coming down at a prodigious 


240 


THE STAG’S COMING 


rate, and there was no sign that it would decrease in 
violence. 

He did not sleep any more that night, but sat up, watch- 
ing and listening. It was pitchy dark, but he heard 
the roar of distant and new streams, and the sliding 
avalanches of sodden snow. He felt an awe of the ele- 
ments, but he was not lonely now, nor was he afraid. 
That which he wished was coming, though with more 
violence and suddenness than he liked, but one must take 
the gifts of the gods, as they gave them, and not com- 
plain. 

Dawn arrived, thick with vapors and mists, and dark 
with the pouring rain. From his place under the cliff he 
could not see far, but he knew that the snow was dissolv- 
ing in floods. The six inches of water in his valley grew 
to a foot, and he began to be apprehensive lest the whole 
place be deluged to such an extent that he be driven out, 
a fear that was soon confirmed, as he saw two or three 
hours after dawn that he must go. 

It would be impossible to keep the lower half of his 
body dry, but he was thankful once more for the great 
painted coat, under which he was able to secure his rifle 
and powder against rain. He also fastened in his belt 
two of the rabbits that he had cooked, and then with the 
rest of his baggage in a pack, he made his start. 

He was forced to wade in chilly water almost to his 
knees, and it was impossible to leave the valley by either 
end of the ravine, as it was filled with a roaring flood 
many feet deep; but with the aid of bushes and stony 


241 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


outcrop he climbed the lofty slope, a slow and painful task 
attended by danger, as now and then a bush would pull 
out with his weight. But, at last, his hands torn, and 
his face running with perspiration, he attained the sum- 
mit, where he turned his face once more toward the 
north. 

He decided that he would keep to the ridges as the 
snow would leave them first, and he could also find some 
protection in the dense, scrubby growth that covered them. 

He never passed a more trying day. The actual dan- 
ger of Indian presence even would have been a relief. 
The rain beat in an unceasing deluge, and he was hard 
put to it to keep his rifle and ammunition dry. The slid- 
ing snow made his foothold so treacherous that he was 
compelled to keep among the wet and flapping bushes, 
where he could grasp support on an instant’s notice. 

At noon, though there was no sun to tell him that it 
had come, he stopped in a dense thicket and ate one of 
the rabbits, reflecting rather grimly that though he had 
been anxious for the rain to come it was making him 
thoroughly uncomfortable. Yet even these clouds cov- 
ering all the heavens had at least one strip of silver lining. 
The harder and more persistently the rain fell the quicker 
the snow would be gone, and once more the wilderness 
would be fit for travel and habitation. 

When he had eaten the rabbit, although he longed for 
some other kind of food, he felt better. He had at least 
furnished fuel for the engine, and, bending his head to the 
storm, he left the thicket and continued his journey, a 


242 


THE STAG’S COMING 


journey the end of which he could not foresee, as he 
never doubted for an instant that the Indian host was 
still pursuing. He left no trail, of course, in such a storm, 
but the rain could not last forever, and, when it ceased, 
some warrior would be sure to pick it up again. 

When night came he was thoroughly soaked, save for 
his precious ammunition, around which he had wrapped 
his blanket also. Most of the snow was gone, but pools 
stood in every depression, and turbid streams raced in 
every gully and ravine. Where he had trodden in snow 
before he now trod in mud, and every bone in him ached 
with weariness. Many a man, making no further effort, 
would have lain down and died, but it was not the spirit 
of Henry. He continually sought shelter and far in the 
night crowded himself into the hollow of a huge decayed 
tree. He was compelled to stand in a leaning position, 
but with the aid of the buffalo coat he managed to pro- 
tect himself from further inroads of the rain, and by and 
by he actually fell asleep. 

The sun was high when he awoke, and he was very 
stiff and sore from the awkward manner in which his 
body had been placed, but the rain had stopped and for 
that he was devoutly thankful, although the earth was 
sodden from the vast amount of water that had fallen. 

It took him three hours to light a fire, so difficult was 
it to procure dry shavings, but, in the end, the task was 
achieved and it was a glorious triumph. Once more fire 
was king and he basked in it, drying his body and his wet 
clothing thoroughly, and lingering beside it all the after- 


243 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


noon. But at night he put it out reluctantly, since the 
warriors were sure to be abroad now, and he could not 
- risk the light or the smoke. 

He slept under the bushes, but in the morning he saw 
in the south smoke answering to smoke, and he did not 
doubt that it was detachments of the Indian host signal- 
ing to one another. Perhaps they had come upon his 
trail, and it was sure, if they had not done so, that they 
would soon find it. Watching the signals a little while, 
he turned and fled once more into the north. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE LEAPING WOLF 

H ENRY came presently into lower ground, where 
he judged the snowfall had not been so great, as 
the amount of standing water was much less and 
the streams were not so swollen. The air, too, was de- 
cidedly warmer, and while the forest had been stripped 
of all its leaves, it did not look so gloomy. A brilliant 
sun came out, flooded trees and bushes with light, and 
gave to the earth an appearance of youth and vitality that 
it has so often and so peculiarly in autumn, although that 
is the period of decay. He felt its tonic thrill, and when 
he came to a clear creek he decided that he would put 
himself in tune with the purity and clearness of the 
world about him. 

He had lain so long in his clothes that he felt he must 
have the touch of clean water upon him, and, daring 
everything, he put his arms aside, removed his clothing 
and plunged into the creek. It made him shiver and 
gasp at first, but he kicked and dived and swam so hard 
that presently warmth returned to his veins, and with 
it a wonderful increase of spirits. 


245 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


When he came out he washed his clothing as well as 
deerskin could be washed, and, wrapped in the blanket 
and painted coat, ran up and down the bank, or other- 
wise exercised himself vigorously, while it dried in the 
bright sun. It was a matter of hours, but it pleased him 
to feel that he was purified again and that he could carry 
out the purification in the very face of Indian pursuit 
itself. When he put on his clothing again he felt remade 
and reinvigorated in both body and mind, and, resum- 
ing his weapons, he set out once more upon his north- 
ward way. 

The day continued warm and most brilliant, as if 
atonement were being made to him for the storms of 
snow and rain. He came to a stretch of country in which 
it was obvious that very little snow, if any, had fallen, 
as the trees were still thick with leaves in the deep col- 
ors of autumn, and it was satisfying to the eye to look 
upon the red glow again. 

Late in the afternoon he saw five smokes in a half 
curve to the south, and he knew well enough that they 
were made by his pursuers. They were much nearer 
than those he had seen earlier in the day, but it was due 
to the long delay made necessary by his swim and the 
drying of his clothes. The rapid gain did not make 
him feel any particular apprehension. The joy of the 
struggle came over him. He was matched against 
the whole power of the Shawnee, Miami and kindred 
nations, and if they thought they could catch him, well, 
let them keep on trying. They should bear in mind, too, 

246 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


that the hunted sometimes would turn and rend the hunter. 

In order to gain once more upon the pursuit and give 
himself a chance to rest later on, he increased his speed 
greatly and also took precautions to hide his trail, which 
was not difficult where there were so many little streams. 
When he stopped about midnight he believed that he was 
at least ten or twelve miles ahead of the nearest war- 
riors, who must have lost a great deal of time looking 
for his traces; and, secure in the belief, he crept into a 
thicket, drew about him the blanket and the buffalo robe, 
which were now sufficient, and slept soundly until he 
was awakened by the howling of wolves. He was quite 
able to tell the difference between the voices of real 
wolves and the imitation of the Indians, and he knew 
that these were real. 

He raised up a little and listened. The long, whining 
yelp came again and again, and he was somewhat sur- 
prised. He concluded at last that the wolves, driven 
hard by hunger, were hunting assiduously in large packs. 
When mad for food they would attack man, but Henry 
anticipated no danger. He felt himself too good a friend 
of the animals just then to be molested by any of them, 
and he went back to sleep. 

When he awoke again just before dawn he heard the 
wolves still howling, but much nearer, and he thought 
it possible that they had been driven ahead by the Indian 
forces. If so, it betokened a pursuit rather swifter than 
he had expected, and, girding himself afresh, he fled 
once more before the sun was fairly up. 


247 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


It was the usual rolling country that lies immediately 
south of the Great Lakes, forested heavily then and cut 
by innumerable streams, great and small. The creeks 
and brooks were not swollen as much as those farther 
south, and Henry judged from the fact that here also 
the snowstorm had not passed. Nevertheless, he crossed 
many muddy reaches and he was compelled to ford two 
or three creeks the water of which reached to his knees. 
But his moccasins and leggings dried again as he ran 
on, and he was not troubled greatly by the cold. 

It was a country that should abound in game, but no 
deer started up from his path, no wild turkeys gobbled 
among the boughs, and the little prairies that he crossed 
were bare of buffaloes. He assumed at once that it had 
been hunted over so thoroughly by the Indians that the 
surviving game had moved on. When the warriors found 
a new hunting ground it would come back and increase. 
He believed now that this accounted for the howling of 
the wolves deprived of their food supply and perhaps 
not yet finding where it had gone. 

He maintained a rapid pace, and his wet leggings and 
moccasins dried gradually. The morning was frosty and 
cold, but wonderfully brilliant with sunlight, and here, 
where the forest had been free from snow, it glowed in 
autumnal colors. 

He came to a deep river, but fortunately it flowed 
toward the northeast, the direction in which he was will- 
ing to go, and he was glad to find it, as he kept in the 
woods near its bank, thus protecting his left flank from 

248 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


any encircling movement. But a strong wind was blow- 
ing toward him and he not only heard the howling of the 
wolves, but the faint cry of the savages far behind them. 
It made him very thoughtful. Something unusual was 
going forward, since the wolves themselves were taking 
part in the pursuit or were pursued also. He could not 
understand it, but he resolved to dismiss it from his 
mind until it disclosed its own meaning. 

He kept near the river, seeing it occasionally through 
the forest on his left, a fine sheet of clear water, over 
which wild ducks and wild geese flew, although the 
woods through which he ran seemed to be absolutely 
bare of game. 

Then the river took a sudden curve farther east 
and he was compelled to turn with it. On his first im- 
pulse the thought of swimming the stream came to him, 
but he dismissed it, lest some swift warrior might come 
up and open fire while he was in the water, in which 
case, being practically helpless, he might become an easy 
victim. So he turned with the stream and, keeping its 
bank close on his left, he fled eastward. But he was 
fully aware that the change in the course of the river 
brought to him a new and great danger. The right wing 
of the pursuing host, traveling not much more than half 
the distance, would gain upon him very fast. Anxious 
not to be entrapped in such a manner he ran now at 
great speed for several miles, but was compelled then 
to slow down, owing to the nature of the country, which 
was growing very marshy. 


249 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Evidently heavy rains had fallen in this region re- 
cently, as he came to extensive flooded areas. It an- 
noyed him, too, that the soft ground compelled him to 
leave so plain a trail, as often for considerable stretches 
he sank over his moccasins at every step. He walked 
on fallen timber whenever he could find it, making a 
break now and then in his trail, but he knew it would 
not delay the Indians long. 

In order to save his breath and strength he was com- 
pelled to go yet slower, and finally he sat on a log for a 
rest of five minutes. Then the wind brought him a 
single Indian shout, not more than a quarter of a mile 
away, and he knew its meaning. The warriors on the 
right flank, coming up on a tangent of the curve, had 
seen his footsteps. They had not run more than half 
the distance he had and so must be comparatively fresh. 
His danger had increased greatly, but his command over 
himself was so complete that, instead of resting five 
minutes, he rested ten. He knew now that he would 
need all his strength, all the power of his lungs, because 
the chase had closed in and for a while it would be a 
test of speed. So he rested that every muscle might 
have its original strength, and he was willing for the 
Indians to come almost within rifle shot before he took 
to flight once more. 

So strong was the command of his mind over his body 
that he saw two warriors appear among the trees about 
four hundred yards away before he rose. They saw 
him, too, and uttered the war whoop of triumph, but 


250 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


Henry was refreshed and he ran so fast that they sank 
out of sight behind him. Then he exulted, taunting them, 
not in words, but with his thoughts. They could never 
capture him, and once more he said to himself that he 
would keep on, even if his flight took him to the Great 
Lakes and beyond. 

But the swampy ground intervened again, and his 
progress of necessity became slow. Then he heard the 
Indian yell once more, and he knew that the difficult 
country was enabling them to close up the gap anew. The 
wolves howled also, but more toward the south, a far, 
faint, ferocious sound that traveled on the wind like an 
echo. He did not understand it, and he had a premoni- 
tion that something extraordinary was going to happen. 
It was curious, uncanny, and the hair on the back of his 
neck lifted a little. 

He came through the swampy belt and to a consider- 
able stretch of dry ground, but he heard the Indian yell 
for a third time, and again not more than a quarter of 
a mile away. The fact that this portion of the band 
had not run that day more than half as far as he was 
telling, and he recognized it. Perhaps the swamps had 
not been to his disadvantage, because on the dry ground 
they could use their reserves of strength and speed to 
much greater advantage. 

Now he knew that his danger had become imminent 
and deadly and that every resource within him would be 
tested to the utmost. Out of the south came the Indian 
cry also, and it was answered triumphantly from the 

251 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


west. A shudder ran through Henry’s blood. He was 
in the trap. The Indians knew it and they were signal- 
ing the truth to one another. 

Now he made a great burst of speed, resolving to be 
well beyond their reach before the jaws of the vise closed 
in, and, as he ran, he longed to hear the howl of the 
wolves once more, a sound that he had used to hate 
always, but which would come now almost like the call 
of a friend. While he was wishing for it, the long 
whine rose, toward the south also, but a little ahead of 
the Indian cry. As before it was strange, uncanny, and 
a second time the hair on the back of his neck lifted a 
little. Evidently the wolves — instinct told him they were 
a great pack — were running parallel with the Indians, 
but for what purpose he could not surmise, unless it 
was the hope of food abandoned by the warriors. 

His own feet grew heavy, and he heard the triumphant 
shouts of the Indians only a few hundred yards away. 
He was powerful, more powerful than any of them, but 
he could not run twice as long as these lean, wiry and 
trained children of the forest. His muscles began to 
complain. He had been putting them to the severest of 
tests, and the effect was now cumulative. A brown fig- 
ure appeared among the bushes behind him and he heard 
the report of a shot. A bullet cut the dead leaves ten 
yards away, but he knew that the warriors would soon 
come nearer and then their aim would be better. 

Now he called upon the last reserve of strength and 
tenacity, the portion that is left to the brave when to or- 


252 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


dinary minds all seems exhausted, and made a final and 
splendid burst of speed, drawing away from the brown 
figures and once more opening the gap between hunted 
and hunters. But the shout came again from the south 
and on his right flank where fresh warriors were clos- 
ing in, and despite himself his heart sank for a mo- 
ment or two in despair. Was he to fall after so many 
escapes? How Braxton Wyatt and Blackstaffe would 
rejoice! 

Despair could not last long with him. There was still 
another ounce of strength left, and now he used it, fairly 
springing through the thicket, while his heart beat hard 
and painfully and clouds of black motes danced before 
his eyes. 

He saw a warrior appear among the bushes on the 
right, and, raising his own rifle, he fired. The stream of 
flame that leaped from the muzzle of his weapon was 
accompanied by the death cry of the savage, followed 
quickly by a long, fierce yell of rage from the fallen 
man’s comrades. 

Then the pursuit hung back a little, but it came on 
again soon, as terrible and as tenacious as ever. He re- 
loaded his rifle as he ran, but he knew that unless some 
strange chance intervened soon he must turn and fight 
for his life. The ground dropped suddenly and he ran 
down a steep slope into a wide valley, the trend of which 
was from north to south. Here he gained a little, but 
he heard a shout on his right and saw three warriors 
coming up the valley, not thirty yards away. At the 


253 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


same time, the long, fierce whine of the wolves was reg- 
istered somewhere on his brain, but he did not take 
definite note of it until afterward. 

The foremost of the Indians fired and missed, to 
receive in return the bullet from Henry’s reloaded rifle, 
but the other two came on, shouting. He hurled his 
hatchet and struck down the second, but the third paused 
twenty feet away and whirled his tomahawk about his 
head in glittering circles. Henry instinctively raised 
his rifle to ward off the blade in its flight, but he knew 
that the guard would not do. The tomahawk would 
leave the warrior’s hand like a thunderbolt, and it would 
go straight to its destined mark. He saw the evil joy 
in the man’s eyes, his anticipation of quick and savage 
victory, and then the cloud of motes before his own eyes 
increased to myriads. His heart, crying out against so 
much exertion, beat so painfully that he thought he could 
not stand it any longer, and a veil of thick mist was 
drawn down between him and the triumphant warrior. 
Then he suddenly stood erect and the hair upon his head 
lifted once more. 

There was a horrible growl and a gigantic wolf, shoot- 
ing out of the mist, launched himself straight at the 
warrior’s throat. Henry heard the man’s terrible cry 
and saw him go down, and then he saw the figures of 
other wolves, enlarged by the vapors, following their 
leader. But that was all he beheld then. Uttering a 
cry of his own, wrenched from him by the appalling 
sight, he snatched up his hatchet, turned and ran up the 


254 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


valley, with strength coming from new and unknown 
sources. 

The heavy mists that were floating over the low ground 
enclosed Henry, but he did not look back. He knew 
instinctively that he was no longer followed. Once he 
thought he heard the horrible growling again, and shouts, 
but he was not sure. Too much had impinged upon his 
mind for him to distinguish between fancy and reality 
yet awhile, but a powerful feeling that another miracle 
had been wrought in his behalf seized upon him and 
would not let go. The wolves, whether it was chance 
or not so far as they were concerned, had come in time 
and their giant leader himself had cut down the warrior 
who was about to cleave the fugitive’s head with his 
tomahawk. 

The Indians would stop, appalled, and for a while 
would be overwhelmed with superstition. But he knew 
that the paralyzing spell could not last long. Blackstaffe 
and Wyatt at least would urge them on, and it was for 
him to use the time that had been granted to him by 
miraculous chance. H 

When exhaustion came he had will enough to stop 
again and remain quite still until the fierce pains in his 
chest ceased and there was air for his lungs once more. 
He was sure of a quarter of an hour, and a forest runner 
such as he could do wonders in that space. A quarter 
of an hour meant for him the difference between life 
and death, and although his feet strove of their own 
accord to go on, his mind held them back at least two- 


255 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


thirds of the time. Then he allowed his body to have 
its way, and he went down the valley not at a run, but a 
prudent walk, in order to give his lungs, heart and mus- 
cles a chance for further recovery. 

The valley seemed to be about a quarter of a mile 
wide, heavily forested, and with a small creek flowing 
down the center. The hills that walled it in on either 
side were high and steep, and Henry thought it would 
be wiser to take to them, but, for the present, he did not 
feel like making the climb. He was not willing to put 
any check upon the new store of strength that was flood- 
ing his veins. 

Ten minutes more and he heard a fierce whoop behind 
him. The Indians evidently had driven off the wolves, 
and, under the insistence of the renegades, would renew* 
the pursuit. Another momentary sinking of his heart 
came. The numbers of the warriors, who could spread 
out in every direction, many of whom were yet compara- 
tively fresh, were an obstacle that he could not overcome. 
The wolves had brought delay, but not escape. 

Then his courage came back, not slowly or gradually, 
but like a leaping tide. He had seen only half of the 
new miracle. While he thought it finished, the other 
half was coming, was upon hunted and hunters even 
now. The veil of mist that had floated between him and 
the wolf and its victim was spreading up and down the 
valley, rising from the wet ground, dense and heavy, 
opaque like ink, despite its whiteness. Presently the 
great whitish cloud would enclose him and the warriors, 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


hiding them from one another, and it would be strange 
if he could not escape them in the white gloom, where 
only ears served. 

Turning his eyes upward to the skies that he could 
not now see, he gave thanks to the superior powers that 
were guarding him so well. Then he turned at a sharp 
angle, crossed the creek, and began to climb the hills on 
the east. 

All the time the fog, thick and white, was pouring 
over the valley and the slopes. Half way up the hill 
Henry paused and looked back, seeing nothing but a 
vast white gulf. Then he heard the warriors in the gulf 
calling to one another, and now the spirit to laugh at 
them came back to him. They did not know that he 
was protected by a force greater than theirs that snatched 
him again and again from the savage band before it could 
close upon him. 

He sat down among the bushes and continued to look 
at the valley, which reminded him now of a vast white 
river, all of it flowing northward, with the signals of the 
warriors still coming out of its depths, puzzled evidently, 
as they had a good right to be. Although they were only 
a few hundred yards away, Henry felt that there was 
little danger. The miracle was continuing. The great 
white flood poured steadily down the valley and rose 
higher and higher on the slopes. He went to the top of 
the hill, where it followed him and spread over the forest. 

When he found a comfortable place in a thicket he 
lay down and drew around him the painted robe that had 


257 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


served him so often and so well. He knew the warriors 
would ascend the slopes, but the chances were a thou- 
sand to one against their finding him in so dense a mist, 
and the longer he rested the better fitted he would be 
for flight. Meanwhile the fog increased in thickness, 
rolling up continually in dense masses, and he inferred 
that he could not be far from some large stream or a 
lake or great flooded areas. Perhaps the creek that 
flowed down the valley emptied not far away into a 
river. 

If he had not been so worn by the tremendous tests 
to which he had been put he would have gone on, despite 
everything, in the fog over the hills, but instead he lay 
close like an animal in its lair, adjusted anew about him 
the blanket and the painted coat and luxuriated. At 
intervals he heard the warriors calling in the valley, and 
once the sound of footsteps not more than twenty yards 
away reached him, but he was not disturbed. The chance 
that they would stumble upon him was still only one in a 
thousand. 

He remained at least four hours in the bushes, and 
throughout that time he scarcely moved, having acquired 
the forest art of keeping perfectly still when there was 
nothing to be done. Then he saw the fog thinning some- 
what, but he was completely restored. Youth had its 
way. His nerves and muscles were as strong as ever, 
and the great mental elation had returned. Why not? 
It was obvious that he was protected by the supreme 
powers. Miracle after miracle had occurred in his be- 

258 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


half. They had sent the wolves just in time, and then 
they had drawn the fog from the earth, hiding him from 
the warriors and giving him a covert in which he could 
lie until his strength was restored. 

He rose now and began his cautious passage through 
the white veil over the hills. The fog was not lifting 
yet, but it was continuing to thin. He could see in it 
ten or fifteen feet, and he was not sorry, as the distance 
was enough for the choosing of a path, but not enough 
for the warriors to come within sight of him before they 
were heard. 

Twice, the sounds of the searching warriors came to 
him, but each time he lay in the bush until they 
passed, when he would rise and continue his judicious 
flight. 

Near the close of the day, and going toward the north- 
east, he was far from the valley, but obviously was com- 
ing to another, as the hills were sinking fast and he saw 
the tops of trees below him. The fog had been thinning 
until it was mere wisps and tatters, and now a smart 
wind seizing all these remnants whirled them off to the 
east, leaving a glorious clear sky, suffused in the west 
with the red and gold of the setting sun, a deep brilliant 
light that touched the whole horizon with fire. 

Henry looked upon it and worshiped. He worshiped 
like a forest runner and a man of the old, old time, when 
nothing of heaven or of religion was revealed. He wor- 
shiped like an Indian to whom, as to many other races, 
the sun was a symbol of warmth, of light and life, almost 


259 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the same as Manitou, that is to say, almost the same as 
God. Nor did he forget to be grateful once more. It 
was not for any merit of his that protection had been 
given to him so often, but because he was an instrument 
in a good purpose. So thinking, he was full of humility 
and meant to continue in the perilous path that he had 
chosen, the path of service for others. 

The spiritual quality was strong in Henry’s nature; 
in truth, it was rooted in the characters of all the five, 
although it differed in its manifestations, and he gazed 
long at the western heavens, where the splendid colors 
of the setting sun blazed in their deepest hues and then 
faded, leaving only a warm glow behind. The night, as 
the forecast already showed, would be clear and cold, 
and he descended into the new valley, which was much 
wider than the one he had left. It was comparatively 
free of undergrowth, and he saw through the trees the 
gleam of water which proved to be a river on his right, 
and of fair size. 

He believed that the larger valley would receive the 
smaller one and its draining creek not far ahead, and a 
new problem was presented. Unless he swam the river 
and kept to the east the warriors would come on anew 
from the west and pin him against the stream. 

Should he plunge into the cold waters? It was not a 
prospect that he liked; but, while he considered it, he 
became aware that the miracle created in his behalf was 
not yet finished. He had thought that it was done when 
the wolves intervened, and again that it was done when 


260 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


the great fog came, but there was yet another link in the 
lengthening chain of marvelous events. 

A sound from the river and he stepped hastily to the 
shelter of a great tree trunk. It was the plash of a 
paddle, and as he looked, peeping from the side of the 
trunk, a warrior stepped from a canoe at the river’s brink 
and took a long look at the forest. Henry judged that 
he was an outpost or sentinel of some kind, or perhaps 
a member of a provision fleet. The man tied his canoe 
with a willow withe to a sapling and strode away out of 
sight, doubtless intending to meet the band to which he 
belonged. Henry’s heart leaped. He was always quick 
to perceive and to act, and he saw his opportunity. 

Twenty swift steps and he was at the margin of the 
stream, one slash of his knife and the willow withe was 
cut, one sweep of the paddle and the stout canoe was 
far out in the stream, bearing with it the brave youth 
and his fortunes. 

Henry exulted. Truly chance — or was it chance? — 
served him well! He had a singular feeling that the 
canoe had been put there especially for his use. No 
more running through the forest. He could call a new 
set of muscles into play, and there before him lay the 
stream, broad and deep and straight, a clear path for 
the good canoe that he had made his own. 

He did not allow his exultation to steal away his cau- 
tion, but after the first few sweeps of the paddle he sent 
the canoe close to the eastern bank, under the shadow 
of vast masses of overhanging willows. Here it blended 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


with the dusk, and he handled the paddle so smoothly 
that he made no splash to betray his presence. 

Now he examined his canoe, and he saw that, in truth, 
it bore supplies for a band, venison, buffalo meat, wild 
turkey, and, what he craved most of all, bread of Indian 
corn. The supplies were sufficient to last him two weeks 
at least, and he felt with all the power of conviction that 
the mircle was still working. 

He sped down the stream with long, silent strokes, 
keeping always in the dusk of the overhanging foliage. 
The stars came out, and with them a full, bright moon, 
which he also worshiped as a sign and an emblem of the 
Supreme Will that had saved him. He fell into an in- 
tense mood of exaltation. The powers of earth and air 
and water had worked together in a singular manner. 
Never was his fancy more vivid. The flowing of the 
stream sang to him, and the willows over his head sang 
to him also. The light from the moon and stars grew. 
The dusk was shot with a silver glow. Apprehension, 
weariness went from him, and he shot down the river, 
mile after mile, apparently the only figure in the ancient 
wilderness. 

He did not stop until two or three hours after mid- 
night, when at a low place in the bank he thrust the canoe 
into a dense mass of water weeds and bushes, put the 
paddle beside him and ate freely of the captured sup- 
plies. The venison and buffalo meat were excellent, and 
while the water of the river was not as good as that of 
a spring, it was nevertheless cold and refreshing. Fresh 

262 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


warmth and vigor flowed into his body, and he declared 
to himself that he had never felt better and stronger in 
his life. He looked with satisfaction at his stores, which 
would last him so long, and he also saw in the canoe a 
folded green blanket, which its owner evidently had left 
there for future use. He would use it instead, since 
the cold was likely to increase and he meant to be com- 
fortable. 

Henry considered the canoe a godsend. It left no 
trail, and he had been careful to leave none when he 
came to the bank for its capture. Perhaps the Indian 
would think he had tied it carelessly and the current had 
pulled its fastenings loose. In any event, the fugitive 
was gone and his pathway was invisible, like that of a 
bird in the air. He looked up once more at the cold, 
blue sky, the brilliant full moon, and the hosts of shining 
stars. Cold the sky might be to others, but it was not 
so to him. It bent over him like a protecting blue veil, 
shot with the silver glow of moon and stars. 

The thicket into which he had pushed his canoe was 
of weeds, reeds and willows, and very dense. The keen- 
est eyes might search its very edge and fail to see the 
fugitive within. There was no view except overhead, 
and Henry resolved to remain there the whole of the 
next day. If the warriors came pursuing on the river 
he would be once again the needle in the haystack, and 
even if by some chance they should spy him out, he 
could escape, refreshed and invigorated, to the land. 

Assured of his present safety, he spread his bed in 

263 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the canoe, a somewhat difficult task, as everything had 
to be adjusted with nicety, but the close wall of reeds 
and bushes helped him to keep the balance, and at last 
he lay on the bottom with the Indian’s blanket under him 
and his own and the painted robe above him. Then he 
went to sleep and did not awaken until the next day was 
hours old. 

A bright sun was shining through the bushes over his 
head, but he was glad that his body had been protected 
by an abundance of covers. The painted robe was white 
with frost, which even the hours of day had not yet 
melted, and near the edges there was a thin skin of ice 
on the river. His breath made little clouds of vapor in 
the cold morning. He was so warm and snug under the 
blankets that he felt the usual aversion in such cases to 
rising, and turning gently on his side, lest he tilt the 
canoe, he closed his eyes for that aftermath of sleep, a 
final and pleasant doze. 

When he opened his eyes again he contemplated the 
sun through the veil of bushes and reeds. It was great 
and red, but it had a chilly effect, and he knew the day 
was quite cold. The willows began to shake and quiver 
and the wind that stirred them was nipping. He did not 
care. Cold stimulated him, and, making ready for new 
endeavors, he dipped for his breakfast into the captured 
stores. 

Then he took note of the river, upon the surface of 
which much life was already passing. He saw a flock 
of wild ducks swimming strong and true against the 

264 


THE LEAPING WOLF 


current, and when they were gone a swarm of wild geese 
came with many honks out of the air and swam in the 
same direction. He knew that presently they would rise 
again and fly into the far south, escaping the fierce win- 
ter of the north. 

The great fishing birds also wheeled and circled over 
the stream, and now and then one shot downward for 
its prey. On the opposite shore two deer pushed their 
bodies through the bushes and drank at the river’s edge. 
On his own shore the puffing of a bear in the woods came 
to his ears. Evidently he had come from a region bare 
of game into a land of plenty. 

The wild geese rose with a suddenness he had not 
anticipated and sped southward in a long arrow, outlined 
sharply against the sky. The great fishing birds silently 
disappeared, and Henry was alone on the river. He 
knew that the quick flight of his feathered friends was 
not due to chance. Undoubtedly man was coming, and 
he crouched low in his canoe, with his rifle ready. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 

H ENRY saw about what he expected to see, two 
long canoes, containing a dozen or more warriors 
each, with the Shawnee chief, Red Eagle, and 
Braxton Wyatt in the first and Yellow Panther, the 
Miami chief, and Blackstaffe in the second. Chiefs and 
renegades and warriors alike swept the shore with quest- 
ing eyes, but they did not see the one for whom they 
had looked so long lying so near, and yet hidden so well 
among the reeds. 

He watched them without apprehension. He had full 
confidence in the veil about him, and he expected them to 
pass on in the relentless hunt. They, too, looked worn, 
and he fancied that the eyes of chiefs and renegades ex- 
pressed disappointment and deep anger. Nobody in the 
long canoes spoke, and, silent save for the plashing of the 
paddles they went on and out of sight. 

Henry might have taken to the woods now, but he was 
too wary. He wished to remain on the element that left 
no trail, and he felt also that he had walked and run 
long enough. He intended to travel now chiefly with 

266 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


the strength of his arms, and the longer he stayed in the 
canoe the better he liked it. Its store of provisions was 
fine, and it was easier to carry them in it than on his 
back. So he waited with the patience that every true 
forest runner has, and saw the morning merge into the 
afternoon. 

It was almost evening when the long canoes came back, 
passing his covert. They had found the quest vain, and 
concluding, doubtless, that they had gone too far, were 
returning to look elsewhere. But the paddlers were 
weary, and the chiefs and renegades, too, drooped some- 
what. They did not show their usual alertness of eye 
as they came back against the stream, and Henry judged 
that the pursuit would lapse in energy, while they went 
ashore in search of warmth and food. 

A half hour after they were out of sight he came from 
the weeds, and, with great sweeps of the paddle, sent 
the canoe shooting down the river. He was so fresh and 
strong now that he felt as if he could go on forever, and 
all through the night his powerful arms drove him 
toward his unknown goal. He noticed that the river was 
broadening and the banks were low, sometimes sandy, 
and he fancied that he was approaching its outlet in one 
of the Great Lakes. And the chase had led so far ! Nor 
was it yet finished ! The chiefs and the renegades, not 
finding him farther back, would reorganize the pursuit 
and follow again. 

Day came bright and warm, much warmer than it had 
been farther south, and Henry paddled until evening 

267 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


although he found the heat oppressive. Paddling a full 
day and part of a night was a great task for anybody and 
he grew weary again. When the night came, seeing no 
reeds and bushes in which he could hide the canoe, he 
resolved to sleep on land. So he lifted it from the river 
and carried it a short distance inland, where he put it 
down in a thicket, choosing a resting place for himself 
not far away. 

He spread one of the blankets as usual on dead leaves, 
and put the other and the painted coat over himself. 
Then, knowing that he would be warm and snug for the 
night, he relaxed and looked idly at the dusky woods, 
feeling perfectly safe as the warriors must be far to 
the south. 

The only living being he saw was a gray squirrel on 
the trunk of a tree about twenty feet away. But he was 
a friend of the squirrel, and he regarded it with friendly 
eyes, noting the sharpness of its claws, the bushiness of 
its tail, and the alertness of its keen little nose. It was 
an uncommon squirrel, endowed with great curiosity, and 
perception, a leader in its tribe, and it was intensely in- 
terested in the large, still body lying on the leaves below. 

The squirrel came farther down the tree, and stared in- 
tently at Henry, uncertain whether he was a friend or a 
foe. Yet he had all the aspect of a friend. There was 
no hostile movement, and the bold and inquiring fellow 
ventured another foot closer. Then he scuttled in alarm 
ten feet back up the trunk, as the figure raised a hand, 
and threw something small that fell at the foot of the tree. 


268 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


But as the human being did not move again, the cour- 
age and curiosity of this uncommonly bold and inquiring 
squirrel returned, and, gradually creeping down the tree, 
he inspected the small object that had fallen there. It 
smelled good, and when he nibbled at it it tasted good. 
Then he ate it all, went back up the bark a little distance 
and waited gratefully for more of the same. Presently 
it came, and he ate that bit, too, and after a while a 
third. Then the human figure threw him no more such 
fine food, but went to sleep. 

The squirrel knew he was asleep, because he left the 
tree, walked cautiously over the ground, and stood with 
his ears cocked up, scarcely a yard from the vast, still 
figure that breathed so deeply and with such regularity. 
He had seen gigantic beings before. From the safety 
of his boughs he had looked upon those mountains, the 
buffaloes, and he had often seen the stag in the forest. 
Mere size did not terrify him, and now he did not feel 
in the least afraid. On the contrary, this was his friend 
who had fed him, and he regarded him with benevolence. 

The squirrel went back up the tree, his claws pattering 
lightly on the bark. He had a fine knot hole high up the 
trunk, and his family were sound asleep in it, surrounded 
by a great store of nuts. There was a warm place for 
him, the head of the family, but he could not stay in it. 
After a while he was compelled to go out again, and look 
at the unconscious human figure. 

Emboldened by his first experience which had been so 
free from ill result, he descended upon the ground a sec- 

269 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


ond time and went toward Henry. But in an instant he 
turned back again. His keen little ears had heard some- 
thing moving in the forest and it was not any small ani- 
mal like himself, but a large body, several of them in 
fact. He ran up the tree, and then far out on a bough 
where he could see. 

Five Indian warriors walking in single file were ap- 
proaching. They were part of an outlying band, not 
perhaps looking for Henry, but, if they continued on 
their course, they would be sure to see him. The squirrel 
regarded them for a moment with little red eyes, and 
then ran back to the trunk of the tree. 

Henry, meanwhile, slept soundly. There was nothing 
to disturb him. The wind did not blow and so the dry 
branches of the forest did not rustle. The footsteps of 
the approaching Indians made no noise, yet in a few more 
moments he ceased to sleep so well. A sound penetrated 
at last to his ear and he sat up. It was the chattering of 
the gray squirrel, and the rattling of his claws on the 
dry bark of the tree, his bushy tail curving far over his 
back, and his whole body seeming to be shaken by violent 
convulsions. Henry stared at him, thinking at first that 
he was threatened by some carnivorous prowler of the 
air, but, as he looked away, he caught a glimpse through 
the bushes of a moving brown figure and then of another 
and more. 

Henry Ware never struck camp with more smoothness 
and celerity. One hand swept up his blankets and the 
painted robe, another grasped his rifle, and, as silent as 


270 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


a night bird itself, he vanished into the deeper thicket 
where the canoe lay. There, crouched beside it, he 
watched while the warriors passed. They would cer- 
tainly have seen his body had it been lying where it had 
been, but they were not near enough to notice his traces, 
and they had no cause to suspect his presence. So, the 
silent file passed on, and disappeared in the deep 
woods. 

Henry stood up, and once more he felt a great access 
of wonder and gratitude. The superior powers were 
surely protecting him, and were even watching over him 
while he slept. He walked back a little and looked at 
the tree, on which the gray squirrel had chattered and 
rattled his claws. He thought he caught a glimpse of 
a bushy tail among the boughs, but he was not sure. In 
any event, he bore in mind that while great animals had 
served him, the little ones, too, had given help as good. 
Then he bore the canoe back to the river, put in it all 
his precious possessions, and continued his flight by 
water. 

There was a chance that warriors might see him from 
the banks, since he had proof of their presence in the 
woods, but relying upon his skill and the favors of for- 
tune, he was willing to take the risk. He had an idea, too, 
that he would soon come to the lake, and he meant to 
hide among the dense thickets and forests, sure to line 
its low shores. 

His surmise was right, as some time before noon the 
river widened abruptly, and a half hour later he came out 


271 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


on the border of a vast lake, stretching blue to the horizon 
and beyond. A strong wind blowing over the great ex- 
panse of water came sharp and cold, but to Henry, natu- 
rally so strong and warmed by his exertions, it furnished 
only exhilaration. He felt that now the great flight and 
chase had come to an end. He could not cross this mighty 
inland sea in his light canoe, and doubtless the chiefs and 
the renegades, unable to follow his trail by water, where 
he left no trail at all, would give up at last, and hope 
for more success another time. 

So believing, and confident in his belief, he looked 
around for a temporary home, and marked a low island 
lying out about five miles from the shore. The five had 
found good refuge on an island once before, and he alone 
might do it again, and lie hidden there, until all danger 
from the great hunt had passed. 

He acted with his usual boldness and decision, and 
paddled with a strong arm toward the island which 
seemed to be about a mile each way and was a mass of 
dense forest. His canoe rocked on the waves, which 
were running high before the wind, but he came without 
mishap to the island, and, pushing his canoe through 
thickets of reeds and willows, landed. 

Leaving the canoe well hidden, he examined the island 
and was well pleased with it, as it seemed to be suited 
admirably to his purpose. The forest was unbroken and 
very dense. Probably human beings never came there, 
as the game seemed very tame. Two or three deer looked 
at him with mild, inquiring eyes before they moved 

272 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


slowly away, and he saw where wild turkey roosted in 
numbers at night. 

In the center of the island was a small dip, where only 
bushes grew, and he decided that he would make his 
camp there, as the great height of the trees surrounding 
it would hide the smoke that might arise from his sub- 
dued campfire. But he did no work that day, as he 
wished to be sure that his passage to the island had not 
been observed by any wandering warriors on the main- 
land. There was no sign of pursuit, and he knew now 
that fortune had favored him again. 

He slept the night through in the canoe, and the next 
morning he set to work with his hatchet to make a 
bush shelter for himself, a task that took two days and 
which he finished just in time, as a fierce wind with hail 
swept over the island and the lake. He had removed all 
his supplies from the canoe to the hut, and, wrapped in 
the painted robe, he watched hail and wind beat upon 
the surface of the lake, until it drove in high waves like 
the sea. There was no danger of warriors trying the 
passage to the island in such weather, and his look was 
that of a spectator not that of a sentinel. The great 
nervous strain of the long flight, and its many and deadly 
perils, had passed, and he found a pleasure in watching 
the turmoil of the elements. 

The old feeling that he belonged for the time to a far, 
far distant past returned. He was alone on his island, 
as many a remote ancestor of his must have been alone 
in the forest in his day, and yet he felt not the least trace 


273 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of loneliness or fear. Everything was wild, primeval and 
grand to the last degree. The huge lake, curving up from 
the horizon, had turned from blue to lead, save where 
the swift waves were crested with white. The hail beat 
on the trees and bushes like myriads of bullets, and the 
wind came with a high, shrill scream. The mainland was 
lost in the mist and clouds, and he was not only alone on 
his island, but alone in his world, and separated from his 
foes by tumbling and impassable waters. 

Henry’s mind was in tune with the storm. He looked 
upon it as a celebration of his triumph, the end of the 
flight and the chase, a flight that had been successful for 
him, a chase that had been unsuccessful for the chiefs 
and the renegades, and the blood merely flowed more 
swiftly in his veins, as the hail beat upon him. He did 
not care how long wind and hail lasted; the longer the 
better for him, and, flinging out his hands, he waved a 
salute to the storm god. 

He remained for hours looking upon the great spectacle, 
that pleased him so much, and then kept dry by the huge 
painted coat, he went back to the brush hut. But night 
only and the necessity to sleep could have sent him 
there. He did not yet light a fire, contenting himself 
with the cold food from the canoe, nor did he do so the 
next day, as the storm was still raging. When it ceased 
on the third day all the trees and bushes were coated with 
ice, and he was a dweller in the midst of a silver forest. 
Then, with much difficulty he lighted a small fire before 
the hut, warmed over some venison and a little of the 


274 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


precious bread. He would not have to kill any game for 
a week or ten days and he was glad that it was so, since 
he was still averse to slaying any member of the kingdom 
of the animals that had befriended him so much. 

The peace of the elements lasted only a few hours. 
Then they were in a more terrible turmoil than ever. 
The wind whistled and shrieked, and the snow came down, 
driven here and there in whirling gusts, while the lake 
roared and thundered beneath the drive of the hurri- 
cane. Although there were lulls at times, yet as a whole 
the storm lasted a whole week, and it was remembered 
long by the Indians living in those northern regions as 
the week of the great storm, unexampled in its length 
and ferocity. 

But Henry found nothing in it to frighten him. Rather, 
the greater powers were still watching over him, and it 
was sent for his protection. His own bold and wild 
spirit remained in tune with it at all times. The brush 
hut was warm and snug and it held fast against wind, 
hail and snow. Now and then he lighted the fire anew 
to warm over his food or merely to see the bright blaze. 

At the end of the week he shot a deer among a herd 
that had found shelter in extremely deep woods at the 
north end of the island, and never did he do a deed more 
reluctantly. But it gave an abundance of fresh food, 
which he now needed badly, and he added to his stores 
two wild turkeys. 

When the storm ceased entirely a very deep snow fell, 
and he put off his intention to leave. He expected to 


275 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


use the canoe, but he might be forced to leave it, and, 
traveling in the woods with the snow above a man's 
knees, would be too hard. So he waited patiently, and 
made his little home as comfortable as he could. 

In another week the snow began to melt fast, and he 
set forth on his great return journey. The canoe was 
well supplied with provisions and the lake was quiet. He 
paddled for the mouth of the river, and, when he passed 
within the stream, the whole country looked so wintry 
that he believed the Indians must have gone to their vil- 
lages for warmth and shelter. Firm in his opinion he 
paddled boldly against the current and took his course 
southward, though he did not relax his caution, as the 
Indians often sent out parties of hunters, despite cold 
or storm. They were not a forehanded people, and the 
plenty of summer was no guard against the scarcity of 
winter. They must find game or die, and Henry had 
very little real fear of anything except these questing 
bands. 

But he paddled on all the day without interruption. 
The dense forest on either shore was white and silent, 
and, when night came, he drew the canoe into the bushes, 
making his camp on land. The temperature had taken 
a great fall in the afternoon, and with the dark intense 
cold had come. The mercury went far below zero and 
the bitter wind that blew bit through the painted coat 
and all his clothing clean into the bone. It was so in- 
tense that he resolved to risk everything and build a fire. 

He managed to set a heap of dead wood burning in 

276 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


the lee of a hill, and he fed the fire for a long time, at 
last letting it die down into a great mass of coals that 
threw out heat like a furnace. Over this he hovered and 
felt the cold which had clutched him like a paralysis leav- 
ing his body. Then he wrapped the two blankets around 
the painted coat and slept in fair comfort till morning, 
sure that the intense cold would prevent any movement 
of the Indians in the forest. 

But the dawn disclosed a river frozen over to the 
depth of four inches, and his canoe, which he had taken 
the precaution to put on land, would be useless, at least 
for several days, as the ice could not melt sooner. Most 
forest runners, in such a case, would have abandoned 
the canoe, and would have gone on through the forest as 
best they could, but Henry had learned illimitable patience 
from the Indians. If the cold put a paralysis on his 
movements it did as much for those of the warriors. So 
he looked to the preservation of the canoe, and boldly 
built his fire anew, eating abundantly of the deer and 
wild turkey and a little of the bread, which he husbanded 
with such care. At night he slept in the canoe and occa- 
sionally he scouted in the country around, although the 
traveling was very hard, as the deep snow was covered 
with a sheet of ice, and he was compelled to break his 
way. He saw no Indian trails and he concluded that the 
hunting parties even had taken to their tepees, and would 
wait until the thaw came. 

His task for the next seven or eight days was to keep 
warm, and to preserve his canoe in such manner that it 


277 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


would be water tight when he set it afloat once more on 
the river. He built another brush shelter, very rude, but 
in a manner serviceable for himself, and with a fire 
burning always before it he was able to fend off the 
fierce chill. The mercury was fully thirty degrees below 
zero, but fortunately the wind did not blow, or it would 
have been almost unbearable. 

Henry chafed greatly at the long delay, but he en- 
dured it as best he could, and, when the huge thaw came 
and all the earth ran water, he put his canoe in the river 
once more and began to paddle against the flooded cur- 
rent. It was a delicate task even for one as strong and 
skillful as he, as great blocks of ice came floating down 
and he was compelled to watch continually lest his light 
craft be crushed by them. His perpetual vigilance and 
incessant struggle against the stream made him so weary 
that at the end of the day he lifted the canoe out of the 
water, crept into it and slept the sleep of exhaustion. 

The next day was quite warm, and the floating ice in 
the river having diminished greatly he resumed his jour- 
ney without so much apprehension of dangers from the 
stream, but with a keen watch for the hunting parties of 
warriors which he was sure would be out. Now that 
the great snow was gone, Miamis and Shawnees, Wyan- 
dots and Ottawas would be roaming the forest to make up 
for the lack of food caused by their customary improvi- 
dence. Moreover, it was barely possible that on his re- 
turn journey he might run into the host led by Yellow 
Panther and Red Eagle. 


278 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


He kept close to the bank in the unbroken shadow of 
the thickets and forests, and as he paddled with delibera- 
tion, saving his strength, a warm wind began to blow 
from the south. The last ice disappeared from the river 
and late in the afternoon he saw distant smoke which 
he was sure came from an Indian camp, most likely 
hunters. 

It was to the east of the river, and hence he slept that 
night in the dense forest to the west, the canoe reposing 
among the bushes by his side. The following day was 
still warmer and seeing several smokes, some to the east 
and some to the west, he became convinced that the forest 
was now full of warriors. After being shut up a long 
time in their villages by the great snow and great cold 
they would come forth not only for game, but for the 
exercise and freedom that the wilderness afforded. The 
air of the woods would be very pleasant to them after 
the close and smoky lodges. 

Now Henry, who had been living, in a measure an 
idyll of lake and forest, became Henry the warrior again, 
keen, watchful, ready to slay those who would slay him. 
He never paddled far before he would turn in to the bank, 
and examine the woods and thickets carefully to see 
whether an enemy lay there in ambush. If he came to 
a curve he rounded it slowly and cautiously, and, at last, 
when he saw remains from some camp farther up float- 
ing in the stream he seriously considered the question of 
abandoning the canoe altogether and of taking to the 
forest. But his present mode of traveling was so smooth 


279 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


and easy that he did not like to go on a winter trail 
through the woods again. 

The mouth of a smaller and tributary river about a 
mile farther on solved the problem for him. The new 
stream seemed to lead in the general direction in which 
he wished to go, and, as it was deep enough for a canoe, 
he turned into it and paddled toward the southwest, going 
about twenty miles in a narrow and rather deep channel. 
He stopped then for the night, and, before dark came, 
saw several more smokes, but had the satisfaction to 
note that they were all to the eastward, seeming to indi- 
cate that he had flanked the bands. 

As usual, he took his canoe out of the water and laid 
it among the bushes, finding a similar covert for himself 
near by, where he ate his food and rested his arms and 
shoulders, wearied by their long labors with the paddle. 
It was the warmest night since the big freeze, but he was 
not very sleepy and after finishing his supper he went 
somewhat farther than usual into the woods, not looking 
for anything in particular, but partly to exercise his 
legs which had become somewhat cramped by his long 
day in the canoe. But he became very much alive when 
he heard a crash which he knew to be that of a falling 
tree. He leaped instantly to the shelter of a great trunk 
and his hand sprang to his gunlock, but no other sound 
followed, and he wondered. At first, he had thought it 
indicated the presence of warriors, but Indians did not 
cut down trees and doubtless it was due to some other 
cause, perhaps an old, decayed trunk that had been 

280 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


weighted down by snow, falling through sheer weariness. 
In any event he was going to see, and, emerging from 
his shelter, he moved forward silently. 

He came to a thicket, and saw just beyond it a wide 
pool or backwater formed by a tributary of the creek. 
In the water, stood a beaver colony, the round domes of 
their houses showing like a happy village. It was evident, 
however, that they were doing much delayed work for 
the winter, as a half dozen stalwart fellows were busy 
with the tree, the falling crash of which Henry had just 
heard, and which they had cut through with their sharp 
teeth. 

He crouched in the thicket and, all unsuspected by the 
industrious members of the colony, watched them a little 
while. He did not know just what building operation they 
intended, but it must be an after thought. The beaver 
was always industrious and full of foresight, and, if they 
were adding now to the construction of their town carried 
out earlier in the year, it must be due to a prevision that 
it was going to be a very cold, long and hard winter. 

Henry watched them at work quite a while, and they 
furnished him both amusement and interest. It was a 
sort of forest idyll. Their energy was marvelous, and 
they worked always wtih method. One huge, gray old 
fellow seemed to direct their movements, and Henry soon 
saw that he was an able master who tolerated neither im- 
pudence nor trifling. In his town everybody had not only 
to work, but to work when, where and how the leader 
directed. It gave the hidden forest runner keen pleasure 


281 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


to watch the village with its ordered life, industry and 
happiness. 

He felt once more his sense of kinship with the ani- 
mals. He was a thoughtful youth, and it often occurred 
to him that the world might be made for them as well as 
for man. 

The beaver was an animal of uncommon intelli- 
gence and he could learn from him. The big gray fellow 
was a general of ability, perhaps with a touch of genius. 
All his soldiers were working according to his directions 
with uncommon skill and dispatch. Henry concentrated 
his attention upon him, and presently he had a feeling 
that the leader saw him, had known all the time that he 
was lying there in the thicket, and was not afraid of him, 
convinced that he would do no harm. It added to his 
pleasure to think that it was so. The old fellow looked 
directly at him at least a half dozen times, and presently 
Henry was compelled to laugh to himself. As sure as 
he was living that big old beaver had raised his head a 
little higher out of the water than usual, and glancing his 
way had winked at him. 

He forgot everything else in the play between himself 
and the beaver king, and a king he surely was, as he had 
time to direct, and to direct ably, all the activities of his 
village, and also to carry on a kind of wireless talk with 
the forest runner. Henry watched him to see if he would 
give him the wink again, and as sure as day was day he 
dived presently, came up at the near edge of the pool, 
wiped the dripping water from his head and face and 


282 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


winked gravely with his left eye, his expression being for 
the moment uncommonly like that of a human being. 

Henry was startled. It certainly seemed to be real. 
But then his fancy was vivid and he knew it. The cir- 
cumstances, too, were unusual and the influences of cer- 
tain remarkable instances was strong upon him. More- 
over, if the king of the beavers wanted to wink at him 
there was nothing to keep him from winking back. So 
he winked and to his great astonishment and delight the 
old king winked again. Then the beaver, feeling as if 
he had condescended enough for the time, dived and 
came up now on the far side of the pool, where he in- 
fused new energy into his subject with a series of rapid 
commands, and hurried forward the work. 

Henry’s delight remained with him. The old king had 
been willing to put the forest runner on an equality with 
himself by winking at him. They two were superior to 
all the others and the king alone was aware of his pres- 
ence. Since the monarch had distinctly winked at him 
several times it was likely that he would wink once or 
twice more, when enough was done for dignity’s sake. 
So he waited with great patience. 

But for a little while the king seemed to nave forgot- 
ten his existence or to have repented of his condescension, 
as apparently he gave himself up wholly to the tasks of 
kingship, telling how the work should be done, and urging 
it on, as if apprehensive that another freeze might occur 
before it could be finished. He was a fine old fellow, 
full of wisdom, experience and decision, and Henry be- 

283 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


gan to fear that he had been forgotten in the crush of 
duties pertaining to the throne. 

In about ten minutes, the gray king dived and came up 
a second time on the near side of the pool. It was quite 
evident, too, that he was winking once more, and Henry 
winked back with vigor. Then the beaver began to swim 
slowly back and forth in a doubtful fashion, as if he 
had something on his mind. The humorous look which 
Henry persuaded himself he had seen in his eye faded. 
His glance expressed indecision, apprehension even, and 
Henry, with the feeling of kinship strong upon him, 
strove to divine what his cousin, the beaver, was think- 
ing. That he was not thinking now what he had been 
thinking ten minutes before was quite evident, and the 
youth wondered what could be the cause of a change so 
abrupt and radical. 

He caught the beaver’s eye and surely the old king 
was troubled. That look said as plain as day to Henry 
that there was danger, and that he must beware. Then 
the beaver suddenly raised up and struck the water three 
powerful blows with his broad flat tail. The reports 
sounded like rifle shots, and, before the echo of the last 
one died, the great and wise king of his people sank like 
a stone beneath the water and did not come into view 
again, disappearing into his royal palace, otherwise his 
domed hut of stone-hard mud. All of his subjects shot 
from sight at the same time and Henry saw only the 
domes of the beaver houses and the silent pool. 

He never doubted for an instant that the royal warn- 

284 


THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 


ing was intended for him as well as the beaver people, 
and he instantly slid back deeper into the thicket, just 
as a dozen Shawnee warriors, their footsteps making no 
noise, came through the woods on the other side, and 
looked at the beaver pool. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE LETTER 

H ENRY was quite sure that the beaver king had 
given him a direct warning, and he never liked 
afterward to disturb or impair the belief, and, 
moreover, he was so alive with gratitude that it was 
bound to be so. Lying perfectly still in the depths of the 
thicket he watched the Indians, powerful warriors, who, 
nevertheless, showed signs of strain and travel. Doubt- 
less they had come from the edge of the lake itself, and 
he believed suddenly, but with all the certainty of convic- 
tion, that they were following him. They were on the 
back trail, which, in some unexplained manner, they had 
struck merely to lose again. Chance had brought them to 
opposite sides of the pond, but he alone had received the 
warning. 

They stood at the water’s edge three or four minutes, 
looking at the beaver houses and talking, although Henry 
was too far away to understand what they said. He 
knew they would not remain long, but what they did 
next was of vital moment to him. If they should chance 
to come his way he would have to spring up and run 


286 


THE LETTER 


for it, but if they went by another he might lie still and 
think out his problem. 

The leader gave a word of command, and, dropping 
into the usual single file, they marched silently into the 
south. Henry lay on the north side of the pool, and 
when the last of the warriors was out of sight, he rose 
and walked back to his canoe, which he must now re- 
luctantly abandon. He could not think of continuing on 
the water when he had proof of the eye that many war- 
riors were in the woods about the creek. 

The canoe had served him well. It had saved him 
often from weariness, and sometimes from exhaustion, 
but dire need barred it now. He put on the painted coat, 
made the blankets and provisions into a pack which he 
fastened on his back, hid the light craft among weeds 
and bushes at the creek’s margin, and then struck off 
at a swift pace toward the west and south. 

While bands would surely follow him, he did not be- 
lieve the Indian hosts could be got together again for his 
pursuit and capture. After their great failure in the 
flight and pursuit northward they would melt away 
largely, and winter would thin the new chase yet more. 
His thought now was less of the danger from them than 
of his four brave comrades from whom he had been 
separated so long and whom he was anxious to rejoin. 
It was more than likely that they had left the oasis and 
had come a long distance to the north, but where they 
were now was another of the serious problems that con- 
fronted him from day to day. In a wilderness so vast 

287 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


four men were like the proverbial needle in the haystack. 

But Henry trusted to luck, which in his mind was no 
luck at all, rather the favor of the greater powers which 
had watched over him in his flight and which had not 
withdrawn their protection on his return, as the king of 
the beavers had shown. All the following day he fled 
southward, despite the heavy pack he carried, and made 
great speed. Here, he judged, the winter had not been 
severe, since the melting of the great snow that he had 
encountered on his way toward the lake, and he slept the 
next night in the lee of a hill, his blankets and the painted 
coat still being sufficient for his comfort. 

At noon of the next day, coming into low ground, 
mostly a wilderness of bushes and reeds, he heard shots 
and soon discovered that they came from the rifles and 
muskets of Indians hunting buffalo and deer, which could 
not easily escape them in the marshes. For fear of leav- 
ing a trail, sure to be seen in such soft ground, he lay 
very close in a dense thicket of bushes until night, which 
was fortunately very dark, came. Then he made off 
under cover of the darkness, and saw Indian fires both 
to the right and to the left of him. He* passed so close 
to the one on his right that he heard the warriors singing 
the song of plenty, indicating that the day had yielded 
them rich store of deer and buffalo. Most of the Indians 
were not delicate feeders and they would probably eat 
until they could eat no more, then, lying in a stupor by 
the fire, they would sleep until morning. 

He did not stop until after midnight, and slept again 

288 


THE LETTER 


in the protection of a steep hill, advancing the next day 
through a country that seemed to swarm with warriors 
evidently taking advantage of the weather to refill the 
wigwams, which must have become bare of food. Henry, 
knowing that his danger had been tripled, advanced very 
slowly now, traveling usually by night and lying in some 
close covert by day. His own supplies of food fell very 
low, but at night, at the edge of a stream, he shot a deer 
that came down to drink, and carried away the best por- 
tions of the body. He took the risk because he believed 
that if the Indians heard the shot they would think it 
was fired by one of their own number, or at least would 
think so long enough for him to escape with his new 
and precious supplies. 

He was correct in his calculations, as he was not able 
to detect any trace of immediate pursuit, and, building 
a low fire between two hills, he cooked and ate a tender 
piece of the deer meat. 

That night he saw a faint light on the horizon, and 
believing that it came from an Indian camp, he decided 
to stalk it. Placing all his supplies inside the blankets 
and the painted robe, he fastened the whole pack to the 
high bough of a tree in such a manner that no roving 
wild animal could get them, and then advanced toward 
the light, which grew larger as he approached. It also 
became evident very soon that it was a camp, as he had 
inferred, but a much larger one than his original sup- 
position. It had been pitched in a valley for the sake 
of shelter from cold winds, and on the western side 

289 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


was a dense thicket, through which Henry advanced. 

The Indians were keeping no watch, as they had noth- 
ing to guard against, and he was able to come so near 
that he could see into the whole bowl, where fully two 
hundred warriors sat about a great fire, eating all kinds 
of game and enjoying to the full the warmth and food 
of savage life. Henry, although they were his natural 
foes, felt a certain sympathy with them. He understood 
their feelings. They had gone long in their villages, 
half starved, while the great snow and the great cold 
lasted, but now they were in the midst of plenty that 
they had obtained by their skill and tenacity in hunting. 
So they rejoiced as they supplied the wants of the 
primeval man. 

The scene was wild and savage to the last degree. 
Most of the warriors, in the heat of the fires, had thrown 
off their blankets, and they were bare to the waist, their 
brown bodies heavily painted and gleaming in the fire- 
light. Every man roasted or broiled for himself huge' 
pieces of buffalo, deer or wild turkey over the coals, and 
then sat down on the ground, Turkish fashion, and ate. 

At intervals a warrior would spring to his feet and, 
waving aloft a great buffalo bone, would dance back and 
forth, chanting meanwhile some fierce song of war or 
the chase. Others would join him, and a dozen, perhaps 
twenty, would be leaping and contorting their bodies 
and singing as if they had been seized by a madness. 
The remainder went on with the feast, which seemed to 
have no ending. 


290 


THE LETTER 


The wind rose a little and blew, chill, through the 
forest. The dry boughs rustled against one another, and 
the flames wavered, but roared the louder as the drafts 
of air fanned them to greater strength. The warriors, 
heated by the heaps of coals and the vast quantities of 
food they were devouring, felt the cold not at all. In- 
stead, the remaining few who wore their blankets threw 
them off, and there was a solid array of naked brown 
bodies, glistening with paint and heat. Innumerable 
sparks rose from the fires and floated high overhead, to 
die there against the clear, cold skies. When a group of 
singers and dancers ceased, another took its place, and 
the fierce, weird chant never stopped, the wintry forest 
continually giving back its echoes. 

The wilderness spectacle had a remarkable fascination 
for Henry, who understood it so well, and, knowing that 
there was little danger from men who were spending 
their time in what to them was a festival, he crept closer, 
but was still well hidden in the dense thicket. Then his 
pulses gave a great leap, as four figures which had been 
on the other side of the fire came distinctly into his view. 
They were Red Eagle, head chief of the Shawnees ; Yel- 
low Panther, head chief of the Miamis; and the rene- 
gades, Braxton Wyatt and Moses Blackstaffe, who had 
pursued him so long and with such tenacity. They were 
talking earnestly, and he crept to the very edge of the 
thicket, where scarcely three feet divided him from the 
open. 

He knew that only a chance would bring the four near 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


enough for him to understand their words, but after a: 
half hour’s waiting the chance came. Blackstaffe, who 
took precedence over Wyatt because of his superior 
years and experience, was doing most of the talking, 
and the subject, chance or coincidence bringing it about, 
was Henry himself. 

“The warriors discovered a white trail, the trail of 
one/’ said the renegade, “but we don’t know it was 
Ware’s. He may have perished in the great freeze, and 
if so we are well rid of a dangerous foe, an eye that has 
always watched over our movements, and a bold spirit 
that always takes the alarm to the settlements below. I 
give him full credit for all his skill and courage, but I’d 
rather his bones were lying in the forest, picked clean 
by the wolves.” 

Henry felt a little thrill of satisfaction. “Picked clean 
by the wolves?” Why, the wolves themselves had saved 
him once! 

“I don’t think he’s dead,” said Braxton Wyatt. “I 
don’t know why, but I believe I understand him better 
than any of you do. I tell you he’s even stronger and 
more resourceful than you suppose ! Look how often he 
has escaped us, when we were sure we held him fast! 
He’d find a way to live in the big freeze, or anywhere. 
I’ve an idea that he’s back up there by the lake some- 
where, and that the trail the warriors found was that 
of another of the five, perhaps the traces of the fellow 
Shif’less Sol.” 

Henry’s pulse leaped again, now with joy. The shift- 


THE LETTER 


less one had not been taken nor slain, and doubtless none 
of the others either, or they would have referred to it. 
But he waited to hear more, and not a dead leaf nor a 
twig stirred in the thicket, he was so still. 

“It seems strange/’ said Blackstaffe, thoughtfully, 
“that we have not been able to take him, when more than 
a thousand warriors were in the hunt, carried on with- 
out stopping, except during the big snow and the big 
freeze. And the warriors are the best in the west, men 
who can come pretty near seeing a trail through the air, 
men without fear. It almost seems to me that there’s 
been something miraculous about it.” 

Then one of the chiefs spoke for the first time, and it 
was Yellow Panther, the Miami. 

“Blackstaffe has spoken the truth,” he said. “Ware 
is helped by evil spirits, spirits evil to us, else he could 
not have slipped from our traps so often. He has pow- 
erful medicine that calls them to his aid when danger 
surrounds him.” 

Yellow Panther spoke with all the gravity and earnest- 
ness that became a great Miami chief, and, as he fin- 
ished, he looked up at the skies from which the fugitive 
had summoned spirits to his help. The great Shawnee 
chief, Red Eagle, standing by his side, nodded in em- 
phatic confirmation. Henry felt a peculiar quiver run 
through his blood. Had he really received miraculous 
help, as the two chiefs thought? Lying there in such a 
place at such a time there was much to make him think 
as they did. 


293 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


“We’ve spread a mighty net, and we’ve caught noth- 
ing,” said Braxton Wyatt, deep disappointment showing 
in his tone. “We’ve not only failed to get the leader of 
the five, but we’ve failed to take a single one of them.” 

Now Henry’s heart gave a great leap. He had in- 
ferred that all of his comrades were yet safe, but here 
was positive proof in the words of Wyatt. Why had 
he ever feared? He might have known that when he 
drew off the Indian power they would be able to take 
care of themselves. 

“I think,” said Blackstaffe, “that we’d better continue 
our march to the south, and also keep a large force in 
the north. If we don’t stumble upon him in a week or 
two our chance will be gone, at least until next spring. 
All the wild fowl flew south very early and the old men 
and women of the tribes have foretold the longest and 
hardest winter in two generations. Is it not so, Yellow 
Panther?” 

“The cold will be so great that all the warriors will 
have to seek their wigwams,” replied the Miami chief, 
“and they will stay there many days and nights, hanging 
over the fires. The war trail will be deserted and the 
Ice King will rule over the forest.” 

“I’ve no doubt the old men and old women are right,” 
said Braxton Wyatt, “and you make me shiver now 
when you tell me what they say. Perhaps the spirits 
will turn over to our side and give all the five into our 
hands.” 

They moved on out of hearing, but Henry now knew 
294 


THE LETTER 


enough. His comrades were untaken and he understood 
their plan of campaign. If he and the four could evade 
it a little longer, a mighty winter would shut in, and 
that would be the end. He was glad he had come to 
spy upon the host. He had been rewarded more richly 
than he had hoped. Now he crept silently away, but 
for a long time, whenever he looked back, he still saw 
the luminous glow of the great fires on the dusky horizon. 

He was so sure that no warriors would come, or, if 
they did come, that his trained faculties would give him 
warning in time, that he slept in a thicket within two 
miles of the camp. He was up before dawn and on the 
southern trail, knowing that the Indian host would soon 
be on the same course, though going more slowly. His 
trail lay to the east of that which had led him north, 
but the country was of the same general character. 
Everywhere, save for the little prairies, it was wooded 
densely, and the countless streams, whether creeks or 
brooks, were swollen by the winter thaw. 

The desire to rejoin his comrades was very strong 
upon Henry, and he began to look for proofs that they 
had been in that region. He knew their confidence in 
him, their absolute faith that he would elude the pursuit 
and return in time. Therefore they would be waiting 
for him, and wherever they had passed they would leave 
signs in the hope that he might see them. So, as he fled, 
he watched not only for his enemies, but for the trail of 
his friends. 

He was compelled to swim a large river, and the cold 
295 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


was so great that he risked everything and built a fire, 
before which he warmed and dried himself, staying there 
nearly two hours. A half hour before he left, he saw 
distant smoke on his right and then smoke equally dis- 
tant on his left. Each smoke was ascending in spiral 
rings, and he knew that they were talking together. He 
knew also that their engrossing topic was his own smoke 
rising directly between. A fantastic mood seized him, and 
he decided to take a part in the conversation. Passing 
one of his blankets back and forth over his own fire, he, 
too, sent up a series of rings, sometimes at regular in- 
tervals, and again with long breaks between. 

It was a weird and drunken chain of signals and he 
knew that it would set the Indians on the right and the 
Indians on the left to wondering. They would try their 
best to read his signals, which he could not read himself ; 
they would strive to put in them meaning, where there 
was no meaning at all; and he worked with the blanket 
and the smoke with as much zest and zeal as he had shown 
at any time in his flight for life. 

No such complicated signals had ever before been sent 
up in the wilderness, and he enjoyed the perplexity of 
the warriors to the utmost as he saw them talking to 
one another and also trying frantically to talk to him. 
The more they said, the more he said and the more com- 
plicated was the way in which he said it, until the smoke 
on his right and the smoke on his left began to sweep 
around in gusts of indignation and disappointment. 

His fantastic humor deepened. He sincerely hoped 

296 


THE LETTER 


that Blackstaffe was at the foot of one smoke and that 
Braxton Wyatt was at the foot of the other, and the 
more they were puzzled and vexed the better it suited 
his temper. He sent up the most extraordinary spirals 
of smoke. Sometimes they rose straight up in the heav- 
ens, now they started off to the right, and then they 
started off to the left. Although they meant nothing, 
one could imagine that they meant anything or every- 
thing. They were a frantic call for help or an in- 
sistent message that the trail of the fugitive had been 
discovered, or merely a wild statement that the night 
was not going to be cold, nor the next day either, or an 
exchange of compliments, or whatever those who saw 
the things chose to imagine. 

After hoping for a while so intensely that Braxton 
Wyatt and Blackstaffe were on either side of him, Henry 
felt sure it was true, so ready is eager hope to turn its 
belief into a fact, and he rejoiced anew at their vexa- 
tion, laughing silently and long. Then he abruptly kicked 
the coals apart, smothered the smoke, and taking up his 
pack fled again, much amused and much heartened, for 
further efforts. ' He could not remember when he had 
spent a more enjoyable half hour. 

He maintained his flight until far after midnight, when, 
coming into stony ground, he found excellent shelter 
under a great ledge, one projecting so widely that when 
he awoke in the morning and found it raining, he was 
quite dry. It poured heavily until the afternoon, and he 
did not stir from his covert, but, wrapped in the painted 


297 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


coat and blankets, and taking occasional strips of the 
deer meat, he enjoyed the period of rest. 

It rained so hard that he could not see more than 
fifty yards away, and in the ravine before his ledge the 
water ran in a cold stream. The forest looked desolate 
and mournful, and he would have been desolate and 
mournful himself if it had not been for the single fact 
that he was able to keep dry. That made all the dif- 
ference in the world, and the contrast between his own 
warm and sheltered lair and the chill and dripping woods 
and thickets merely heightened his sense of comfort. 

When the rain stopped it was followed by an extremely 
cold night that froze everything tight. Every tree, bush 
and the earth itself was covered with glittering ice, a 
vast and intricate network, a wilderness in white and 
silver. It was alike beautiful and majestic, and it made 
its full appeal to Henry, but at the same time he knew 
that his difficulties had been increased. He would have 

> 

to walk over ice, and, as he passed through the thickets, 
fragments of ice brushed from the twigs would fall 
about him. For a while, at least, the Ice Age had re- 
turned. It was sure, too, to make game very scarce, as 
all the animals would stay in their coverts as long as 
they could at such a time, and he must replenish his 
supplies of food soon. But that was a difficulty to which 
he gave only a passing thought. Others pressed upon 
him with more immediate force. 

His moccasins had become worn from long use and 
they slipped on the ice as if it were glass. He met this 

298 


THE LETTER 


difficulty by cutting pieces from one of the blankets and 
tying them tightly over his feet with thin strips from 
his buckskin garments. He was then able to walk with- 
out slipping, and he made good progress again through 
the forest, the exertion of travel keeping him warm. 
Meanwhile he watched everywhere for a sign, a sign 
from the four, keeping an especial eye for the trees, for 
it was upon them that the forest runners wrote their 
letters to one another. In his soul he craved such a 
letter and he did not really know how intensely he craved 
it. The bonds of friendship that united the five were 
the ties of countless hardships and dangers shared, and 
not one of them would have hesitated an instant to risk 
his life for any one of the others. 

It was characteristic of Henryk patience and thor- 
oughness that, though he found nothing, he kept on 
looking. He wanted a letter, and he wanted it so long 
and with so much concentration that he began to believe 
he would find it. It was only a short letter that he 
wished, merely a word from his friends saying they 
had passed that way. A straight, tall figure, with eager, 
questing eyes, he went on through the silver forest. 
When the light wind blew, fragments of the ice that 
sheathed every bough and twig fell about him and rat- 
tled like silver coins as they struck the ice below, but 
mostly the air was quiet, and the glow from a mighty 
setting sun began to shoot such deep tints through the 
silver that it was- luminous with red gold. Thinking 
little now of its beauty and majesty, the hunter pressed 


299 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


on, not the hunter of men nor even a hunter of game, 
but a hunter for a word. 

The mighty sun sank farther. Most of the gold in 
its rays was gone, and it burned with an intense red 
fire, lighting up the icy forest with the glow of an old, 
old world. Henry still looked. The dark would come 
soon, when he must abandon the search for the word 
and seek shelter instead. But his hope was still high 
that he would find it before night closed down. 

When the red glow was at its deepest he saw in the 
very core and heart of it that for which he was looking. 
Eye-high on the stalwart trunk of an oak were four 
parallel slashes from the keen blade of a tomahawk. 
They could not have been put there by chance. A pow- 
erful hand had wielded the weapon and the four cuts 
were precisely horizontal and close together. He had 
found his word. It was as plain as day. The four 
had passed there and they had left for him a letter tell- 
ing him all about it. This was only the first paragraph 
in the letter, and he would find others farther on, but 
he devoted a little time to the examination of the first. 

He studied minutely the cuts and the cloven edges of the 
bark, and he decided that they were at least two weeks 
old. So the letter had been posted some time since, and 
doubtless its writers had gone on to another region. But 
if they posted one letter they would post others, and he 
felt now that communication had been established. True, 
the chain connecting them was long, but it could be short- 
ened inch by inch. 


300 


THE LETTER 


He made a series of widening circles about the tree, 
looking for the second paragraph of the letter, and he 
found it about a hundred yards to the eastward, exactly 
like the first, four parallel slashes of a tomahawk, eye- 
high, deep into the trunk of a stalwart oak. He found 
a third paragraph precisely like the first and the second, 
a hundred yards farther on, and then no more. But three 
were enough. They indicated clearly the course of the 
four which was into the northeast. In the morning he 
would change his own direction to conform with theirs. 

The letter gave him a great surge of the heart, but 
the night came down quickly, dark and cold, the bitter 
wind blew again, and the ice fell about him in a rain of 
chill crystals. He knew that the temperature was fall- 
ing fast, and that it would be his hardest night so far. 
He must have a fire, risk or no risk, and it was a full 
three hours before he was able to coax one from dead 
wood that he dragged from sheltered recesses. Then it 
felt so good that he built a second, intending to sleep 
between them. His supply of food was low, but knowing 
how needful it was to preserve his strength and the full 
fresh flow of his blood, he ate of it heartily, and, then 
when the ground, wet between the fires from the melted 
ice, had been dried by the heat, he made his bed and slept 
well, although he awoke once in the night and finding 
the cold intense put fresh wood on the fires. 

The next morning was one of the coldest he had felt, 
and he was reluctant to leave the beds of coals, but his 
comrades had given him a sign, and he would not dream 


3 01 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


of ignoring it. He threw ice upon the fires, and with 
a sigh felt their heat disappear. Then he followed the 
trail to the northeast, hunting at intervals for a renewal 
of the sign lest he go wrong. Three times he found it, 
always the four cuts; eye-high, always in the trunk of a 
stalwart oak, and always they led in the direction in which 
he was going. The cuts were very deep, and he was quite 
sure that they had been made by Shitless Sol, who added 
to remarkable strength wonderful cunning and mastery 
in the use of a tomahawk. 

About noon, he came to a vast, shallow, flooded area, 
a third of a mile or more across, but extending farther 
to north and south than he could see either way. Doubt- 
less the four had crossed there before the heavy rains 
made the flood, and as he was unwilling to take the long 
circuit to north or south he decided to make the passage 
on the ice which was thick and strong. 

He had been so free from danger for some time that 
he took little thought of it now, but when it was absent 
from his mind it came. When he was well out upon the 
ice he heard the crack of a rifle behind him and a bullet 
whizzed by his ear. He ran forward at great speed be- 
fore he looked back, and then he saw a dozen warriors 
standing at the edge of the ice, but making no motion 
to pursue. As he was now out of range, he stopped and 
examined them, wondering why they did not follow him. 
The solution came quickly. 

The band suddenly united in a tremendous war whoop 
and from the woods on the other side of the ice came an 


302 


THE LETTER 


answering whoop. He was trapped between them, and 
they could afford to be deliberate. His heart sank, but 
as usual his courage came back in an instant, stronger 
than ever. Alert, resourceful, the best marksman in all 
the West, he did not mean to be taken or slain, and 
he looked about for the means of defense. As it was 
not a lake, upon the frozen surface of which he stood, 
merely a great shallow flooded area, there were clumps of 
bushes and little islands of earth here and there, and 
he ran to one not twenty feet away, a tiny place, well 
covered with big bushes. The Indians, seeing him take 
refuge, set up a yell from both shores, and Henry, set- 
tling down in his covert, waited for them to make the 
first move. 

He knew that the warriors would be deliberate. Con- 
sidering their victim secure in the trap, they would reckon 
time of no value, and would take no unnecessary risk. 
He believed they were hunting bands, not those that had 
trailed him directly, and that his encounter with them 
was chance, a piece of bad fortune, nothing more than 
he should expect after such a long run of good fortune. 

Warriors of the different bands sent far signals to one 
another across the ice, and then slowly and with care 
each party built a large fire, around which the men sat 
basking in the heat, and now and then, with a cry or two, 
taunting the fugitive whom they considered so tight in 
the trap. The red gleam of the flames upon the ice, con- 
trasting with his own situation, struck a chill into Henry. 
The wind had a clear sweep over the frozen lagoon, and 


303 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the rustling of the icy bushes above him was like a whis- 
per from the cold. He wrapped himself thoroughly in the 
painted coat and the two blankets, put the rifle in front 
of him, where he could snatch it up instantly, and beat 
his hands together at times to keep them warm, and at 
other times held them under the blankets. 

He understood human nature, and he knew that they 
were rejoicing in their own comfort, while he might be 
freezing. They felt that way because it was their way, 
and he did not blame them. It was merely his business to 
thwart their plans, so far as they concerned himself. He 
recognized that it was a contest in which only superior 
skill could defeat superior numbers, and he summoned 
to his aid every faculty he possessed. 

The Indians did not move for an hour, luxuriating by 
their fires, and occasionally taunting him with cries. 
Then four warriors from either shore went upon the 
ice at the same time, and began to advance slowly toward 
his island, making use of the clumps of bushes that thrust 
here and there through the frozen surface of the lagoon. 

Henry slipped his hands from the blankets and watched 
both advancing parties with swift glances, right and 
to left. They were using shelter and advancing very 
slowly, but beyond a certain point both were bound to 
come in range. He smiled a little. Much of his forest lifd 
recently had been in the nature of an idyll, but now the 
wild man in him was uppermost. They came to kill and 
they would find a killer. 

He knelt among the bushes, which were thin enough 
304 


THE LETTER 


to allow him a clear view in every direction, and put his 
powder horn and bullet pouch on the snow in front of 
i him. He could reload with amazing rapidity. They did 
I not know that. Nor did they know that they were ad- 
! vancing upon the king of riflemen. Naturally, they would 
suppose him to be a wandering hunter lost in a danger- 
ous region. 

The party on the west presently began to pass from 
the shelter of one tuft of bushes to another, twenty yards 
away, and in doing so the four were wholly exposed. 
It was a long shot, much too long for any of the Indians, 
but not too long for Henry. He fired at the leading 
warrior, and, before he had time to see him crashing 
on the ice, he was reloading his rifle with all the speed 
of dexterous fingers. He heard a yell of rage from the 
Indians, and, glancing up, saw the three dragging away 
the body of the fallen man. But the party on the other 
side, knowing that his rifle had been emptied, but not 
knowing with what speed he could reload, came run- 
ning. 

His weapon flashed a second time, and with the same 
deadly aim. The leading warrior in the second party 
fell also, dead, when his body touched the ice, and his 
comrades gave back in fear. They had not known such 
terrible sharpshooting before, and the man whom they 
had thought so securely in the trap must have two rifles 
at least. Both parties, carrying their dead with them, 
retreated swiftly to shore, and gathered about the fires 
again. 


305 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


Henry reloaded a second time, patted affectionately the 
rifle that had served him so well, put it once more in 
front of him, and sheltered his hands as before under 
the blankets. The bands had received a dreadful lesson. 
The loss of two good warriors was not to be passed over 
lightly, and he knew they would delay some time before 
taking further action. Meanwhile, the night was coming 
fast and the cold was increasing so greatly that it 
alarmed him, despite the blankets and the painted robe. 
The wind sweeping over the frozen surface of the lagoon 
had an edge that cut like steel. The very blood in his 
veins seemed to grow chill, and he felt alarm lest his 
hands grow too stiff with cold to handle the rifle. The 
bushes, although they hid him from a distant enemy, 
did not afford much protection. Instead, they were like 
so many icicles. 

The two bands built their fires higher, until the flames 
threw a glow far out on the ice, and Henry saw their 
hovering figures outlined in black against the red. They 
filled him with anger, because they could maintain the 
siege in comfort, while he had to fight not only a hu- 
man foe, but the paralyzing cold as well. He stood up 
now, stretched his arms, stamped his feet and exercised 
himself in every manner of which he could think, until a 
certain amount of warmth came to his body. But he 
knew it would not last long. Presently the cold would 
settle back fiercer and more intense than ever. 

The night advanced, the dusk deepened and the siege 
of Henry by the warriors and the cold grew more for- 

306 


THE LETTER 


midable. He was anxious for the Indians to make an- 
other attack, but he knew now they would not do it. They 
would wait patiently for the fugitive in the trap to fall 
inert into their hands. After all he was in the trap ! And 
it was a trap worse than any other he had ever met. 
Then he said fiercely to himself that he might be in the 
trap, but he would break out of it. 

For the second time, he took violent physical exercise 
to drive away the creeping and paralyzing cold, and then 
he resolved upon his plan to burst the trap. The night 
was fairly dark with streamers of cloud floating across 
the heavens, and it might grow darker. Far to north 
and south stretched the glimmering white ice, with dark 
spots here and there, where the clumps of bushes or 
trees thrust themselves above the frozen surface. 

Wrapping himself as thoroughly as he could, and yet 
in the best way to leave freedom of action, he crept from 
the bushes and bending low on the ice ran to a clump 
about thirty yards to the south, where he crouched a 
while, watching the warriors at the two fires. He could 
still see very clearly their figures outlined in a black 
tracery against the flames, and they might have sentinels 
posted nearer, but evidently his own change of base had 
not been suspected. Perhaps the fear of his deadly rifle 
kept them from coming so near that they could see his 
movements, and they relied upon the great cold to hold 
him within the original clump of bushes. The blood 
in his veins that had grown chill seemed suddenly to 
turn warm again. Even a passage of a few yards from 


307 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


one little island to another was enough to create hope. 
There was no trap so tight in which he could not find 
a crevice, or make one, and he prepared for the second 
stage in his journey, a cluster of trees a full hundred 
yards to the south. 

He would have dropped to his hands and knees if it 
had not been for the fear of freezing his fingers, a risk 
that he could not afford to take for a moment, alone 
in the desolate wilderness and surrounded by deadly 
perils. So he merely stooped low and ran for the trees, 
the wrappings of blanket on his feet saving him from 
slipping. 

But he gained them and there was yet no alarm. The 
black tracery of the Indian figures still showed before 
the fires, where they were hovering for the sake of the 
grateful heat, and, as well as he could judge, his flight 
was unsuspected. 

The third island was much better than the first two. 
Although it was only eight or ten yards across, it sup- 
ported a cluster of large trees, and had a little dip in 
the center, in which he lay, while the cruel wind was 
broken off by the trees or passed over his head. There 
was an access of warmth, and he had a tremendous 
temptation to lie there, but he fought it. It was hard to 
distinguish warmth from numbness, and, if he remained 
without motion, he would surely freeze to death, de- 
spite the trees and the dip. 

Reluctantly he began the fourth stage in his flight, 
and his reluctance was all the greater because the island 

308 


THE LETTER 


for which he was making was at least three hundred 
yards away, and the wind, cold as the Pole and cruel 
as death, was rising to a hurricane. It made him waver 
as he ran, and his fingers almost froze to his rifle. But 
he reached the fourth island, where he sank down ex- 
hausted, the fierce wind having taken his breath for 
the time. The fires now were far away and he could not 
distinguish the Indians from the flames, but he did not 
believe any of them had come upon the ice to attack 
him or to spy him out. While the tremendous cold al- 
most paralyzed him, it would also withhold their advance 
upon him for a while. 

He rose from his covert and started again, although 
he felt that he was growing weaker. Such intense ex- 
ertion, under such conditions, was bound to tell even 
upon a frame like his, but he would not let himself falter, 
passing from island to island, resting a little at every one, 
bearing toward the southeast, and intending to enter the 
forest about a mile from the fire on that side. Mean- 
while, the chill of the deadly cold and elation over his 
escape fought for the mastery of him. He reached the 
last little island, scarcely ten yards from the shore, and 
as he stepped upon it, two dusky figures threw them- 
selves upon him. 

Henry was thrown back upon the ice, but though the 
blow was like a lightning flash, he realized, in an in- 
stant, what it meant. The warriors had not been wholly 
paralyzed by the cold, and they had stationed guards at 
other points along the lagoon to prevent his escape, but 


309 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


these two were seeking so hard to protect themselves 
from the cruel wind that they had not seen him until 
he was upon them. Knowing that the question of his 
life or death would be decided within the next half 
minute, he put forth every ounce of his mighty strength, 
and swept the two warriors together in his arms. 

His rifle clattered upon the ice, and with the two men 
clinging to him, struggling vainly to reach tomahawk or 
knife, he rose to his feet, still clutching the warriors. 
But the feet of all three slipped from under them, and 
down they went again with a tremendous impact. The 
warriors were on the underside, and Henry fell upon 
them. There was a rending crash, as the ice, thinner at 
that point, owing to the protection of the island, broke 
beneath the blow. 

Henry felt the grappling fingers slip from him, and he 
sprang back just in time to see the two warriors sink into 
a narrow but icy gulf, from which they never rose again. 
Uttering a cry of horror, he picked up his rifle and ran 
for the forest. He knew that chance, or perhaps the 
will of the greater powers, had saved him again, but, 
as he ran, he shuddered many times, not from the cold, 
but at the ghastly fate that had overtaken the warriors. 
The impression faded by and by. When one is in a 
bitter struggle for life he does not have time to think 
long of the fate of others, and the savage wilderness 
through which he fled was too bitter of aspect then to 
breed a long pity. 

He was quite sure that he had shaken off the Indians, 
310 


THE LETTER 


for the time, anyhow, and again the vital question with 
him was warmth. The running was bringing a measure 
of it, but he could not run forever, and he soon sank 
to a walk in order to save himself. But he maintained 
this gait for a long time, in truth, until dawn was only 
three or four hours away, and then he decided that he 
would build a fire. It was a risk, but he chose to take 
the smaller risk in order to drive off the greater. 

It never before took him so long to kindle his blaze. 
He found a place sheltered from the wind, whittled many 
shavings from dead wood, and used his flint and steel 
until his hands ached, coaxing forth the elusive sparks 
and trying to make them ignite the wood. They died by 
hundreds, but, after infinite industry and patience, they 
took hold, and he sheltered the tiny and timid blaze with 
his body, lest it change its mind and go away after all. 
Though it sank several times, it concluded finally to stay 
and grow, and, having decided, it showed vigor, burning 
fast while Henry fed it. 

As the fire threw out abundant heat he reveled in it. 
Now he knew better than ever before that fire was life. 
He could feel the blood which had seemed to be ice in 
his veins thawing and flowing in a full warm flood again. 
The beat of his heart grew stronger and the stiff hands 
acquired their old flexibility. His face stung at first, 
but he rubbed ice over it, and presently it too responded 
to the grateful heat. An immense comfort seized him 
and he felt drowsy. Comfort would become luxury if he 
could lie down and sleep, but he knew too much to yield 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


to the demands of his body. After spending two hours 
by the fire and becoming thoroughly soaked in heat, he 
put out the coals and went on again. As he walked, he 
ate the last of his food, and now he must soon find more. 
The problem of his escape from the Indians had been 
solved, but the problem of finding his comrades was 
upon his mind, though it must be put off while he solved 
that of food. 

He considered it a miracle that his rifle had not gone 
into the water with the two warriors. But was it a 
miracle? Was it not rather another intercession of the 
greater powers in his favor? Alone in the wilderness 
at such a time a rifle was at least half of life, even more, 
it was the very staff of it. Without it he would surely 
perish. He patted the rifle with the genuine affection one 
must feel for so true a weapon. It was a fine rifle, beau- 
tiful in his eyes, with a long, slender barrel of blued 
steel, and a polished and carved stock. It had never 
failed him, and he knew that it would not fail him now. 

He thought of the rabbits which had been such an 
abundant resource once. Many of them must be in their 
nests under the ice and snow, and he searched for hours 
but found none. Yet he could go two or three days with- 
out food, and he did not despair, showing all his usual 
pertinacity, never ceasing to look. The hunt led him into 
rocky ground, and, between the ledges, he noticed an 
opening that caused him to take a second look. Sev- 
eral coarse hairs were on the stone at the entrance, and 
when he saw them he knew. It was his animal brother 


312 


THE LETTER 


at home, and he did not forget his gratitude, but he 
must live. 

He seized a long stick and thrust it savagely inside. 
The bear, awakened from the winter sleep which he 
had begun luxuriously not long ago, growled fiercely and 
rushed out. Then Henry snatched up his rifle and shot 
him. The bear had lost much of his fat, but he was a 
perfect treasure house of supplies, nevertheless, and 
steaks from his body were soon broiling over the 
coals. Henry, remembering how much food he needed 
in such intense cold, and, while he was undergoing phys- 
ical exertions so great, ate heavily. As much more as 
he could conveniently carry he added to his pack, know- 
ing that he could freeze it at night, and that it would 
keep indefinitely. He would have liked the bearskin too, 
but he did not care to add so much to his burden, and 
so he left it reluctantly. 

He was a new man now, made over completely. The 
wilderness, so far from being desolate and hostile, took 
on its old comfortable aspects. It was a provider of food 
and shelter to one who knew how to find them, and cer- 
tainly none knew better than he. The wants of the body 
being satisfied, he began to plan anew for the junction 
with his comrades. The great cold would not last much 
longer. A temperature twenty or thirty degrees below 
zero never endured more than a few days. Like as not, 
it would break up in a warm rain, to be followed by mod- 
erate weather, and then he could hunt the trail of the 
four in comfort. 


313 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


His pack was much heavier when he started and 
the icy coating of the earth was still slippery, but he made 
excellent progress, and he was able to fix in his mind 
the direction in which the marks on the trees had pointed. 
He knew that he must turn back somewhat toward the 
north in order to reach that line, and such a change 
in his course would increase the danger from the Indi- 
ans, but he did not hesitate. He made the angle at once, 
and then he began to observe the trees with all the pa- 
tience and minuteness of which a forest runner in such a 
crisis was capable. 

It was almost dusk when he found the sign, four 
slashes of a tomahawk, eye-high on the stalwart trunk 
of an oak, and a hundred yards farther on a similar 
sign. He traced them fully a mile, and then as the 
night shut down, dark and impenetrable, he was com- 
pelled to stop. He dared another fire, the cold was so 
intense, and began his journey again the next morning 
over the ice. 

The rise in the temperature that he had expected did 
not occur, nor were there any signs of a change. Evi- 
dently the great cold had come to stay much longer than 
usual, and, while it hindered his own journey, it also hin- 
dered possible pursuit by the Indians, of whom he saw 
no traces anywhere until the third day after he had 
killed the bear. Then he observed a great smoke in the 
south, and he approached near enough to discover that 
it was an Indian village, probably Shawnees. It seemed 
to be snowed up for the winter, holed up like a bear, and, 


314 


THE LETTER 


anticipating no danger from it, he continued his leisurely 
hunt eastward. 

He lost the traces for a whole day, but recovered them 
the next morning, and now they were much fresher. Sap, 
not yet dead in some of the trees, had oozed but lately 
into the cuts, and his heart beat very hard. His com- 
rades could not be far away. He might reach them the 
next day or the day after, and now he was actuated by 
a curious motive, and yet it was not curious, when his 
character is considered. 

He built a fire by the side of one of the pools, with 
which the forest was filled. Breaking the ice and daring 
the fierce chill of the water, he took a quick bath. Then, 
while he was wrapped in the blankets and the painted 
coat, he washed all his clothing thoroughly, as he had 
done once before, and dried it by the fire. When he 
was able to put it on again, he washed the blankets in 
their turn and dried them. He would have served the 
painted coat in a similar manner, but, as that was im- 
possible, he rubbed and pounded it thoroughly. 

His forest toilet complete, Henry felt himself a new 
man once more, inwardly and outwardly, freshened up, 
made presentable to the eye. He knew that he was 
haggard and worn. Hercules himself would have been, 
after such a flight and pursuit, but at least he was dressed 
as a forest runner, neat by nature and careful in his 
attire, should be. 

Now he followed the traces with renewed strength' 
and speed, and he found that they came more closely 


315 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


together, a fact indicating the absence of Indians from 
the immediate region, as the four would not leave so 
broad a trail, unless they knew it would not bring a 
strong force of Indians upon them. Straight now it led, 
and he crossed numerous frozen streams and pools 
or lagoons, and then the night that he felt sure was to 
be the last one came, as bitterly cold as ever. 

The next morning he did not put out his fire as usual, 
instead he built it up higher, and, passing one of the 
blankets rapidly back and forth over it, sent up ring 
after ring of smoke. They did not thin away and van- 
ish until they were high in the clear, intensely cold blue 
sky. 

When his eyes had followed the rings a little while he 
turned them toward the eastern horizon and watched 
there closely. Despite all the efforts of his will his heart 
throbbed hard. Would the answer come? He waited 
a full half hour, and then his pulses gave a great leap. 
Rings of smoke began to rise there under the sky's 
rim a full mile away, ascending like his own into the 
cold air, where, high up, they thinned away and van- 
ished. Then his pulses gave another great leap as a sec- 
ond series of rings rose close beside the first, to be fol- 
lowed quickly by a third and a fourth. Four fires and 
four groups of smoke rings rising into the air ! The last 
doubt disappeared. Paul, the shiftless one, the silent 
one, and Long Jim were there. Doubtless they had sig- 
naled before, and now at last he had called to them. 

In his wild exultation he kicked the coals of his own 

3 l6 


THE LETTER 


fire apart and started swiftly toward the four groups of 
smoke rings. On his way he sent forth a long thrilling 
cry that pierced and echoed far through the wintry for- 
est, and like the distant song of a bugle a similar cry came 
back. As he broke into a run, four human figures ap- 
peared upon the crest of a low hill and burst into a 
simultaneous shout. Then they exclaimed, also together: 

“Henry !" 

After that, although their emotion was deep, they 
made no great show of it. The border was always terse. 

“I knowed you'd shake 'em off, Henry," said the 
shiftless one. 

“But it must have been a long chase," said Paul. 

“Wish I’d been with you," said Long Jim. 

“Big work," said Tom Ross. 

“I didn’t do it all my myself," said Henry. “I was 
helped by the people of the forest. They came to my aid 
again and again." 

Paul looked at him wondering, and Henry told them 
how he had been warned by the animals one after an- 
other, and he could not believe it was mere chance. 

“The woods are full o’ strange things," said Shif’less 
Sol, thoughtfully. “An’ I never try to explain ’em all 
to myse’f. I let ’em go fur what they are." 

“How has it been with all of you?" asked Henry. 

“We stayed a long time on the oasis in the swamp," 
replied Paul, “and then we started toward the north, 
hanging on to the rear of the pursuit, and trying for a 
chance to help you, though we never found it. At last 


317 


THE EYES OF THE WOODS 


the great cold made us seek shelter, but we were sure it 
would compel the warriors to abandon the chase and drive 
them into their villages. ,, 

“After all, it was King Winter that intervened finally 
in my behalf.” 

“That’s true. And while we were hovering about, hop- 
ing to help you, we left the long trail which I suppose 
you saw.” 

“Yes, I came upon it, and it led me to you.” 

“An’ now,” said Shif’less Sol, “sence all the warriors 
heve been drove into winter quarters, an’ none o’ us hez 
been killed or took, s’pose we go into them kind o’ quar- 
ters ourselves, an’ keep warm.” 

“Whar?” asked Silent Tom. 

“Why, our old hollow in the cliff!” exclaimed Paul. 
“The warriors would not think of marching against it 
again before next spring, if at all, and it’s the warmest, 
safest and finest place in all the wilderness.” 

“A good choice,” said Henry. 

“Right thar we’ll go,” said Shif’less Sol. 

“Ez soon ez we kin make tracks fur it,” said Long 
Jim. 

“Shore,” said Tom Ross. 

They started at once, and all things turned in their 
favor. The wilderness remained frozen and bitter cold, 
but there was no pursuit. By all rules, game should have 
been scarce at such a time, but they found plenty of it. 
Day after day they traveled through the woods, crossing 
the Ohio on the ice, and at last they drew near the rocky 

318 


THE LETTER 


home they had defended so valiantly, and which once 
more extended to them a silent welcome. 

Now they built their fires anew, killed game and ob- 
tained abundant supplies of food and furs, though for 
two weeks Henry was not allowed to join the others in 
the chase, resting like Hercules after his mighty labors. 
Then, while the great cold lasted, they, the eyes of the 
woods, built up their strength and spirit for new labors 
and dangers in the spring. 




EJe’21 




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